Tip of the Spear: Edge of the Blade
by Jorvik
Summary: (NEW CHAPTER) A damaged Imperial fleet and two regiments are lost in the Warp, arriving far beyond their own time. The SSV Normandy, on a patrol, is rerouted to investigate. How will these events affect the now-forgotten history of 183.M3?
1. Prologue

_**A/N:**_

_The original iteration of this crossover was written before the release of ME 2. This revision will include most of the old material, with the aim to expand on the story and and generally improve on the original iteration. A follow up set slightly after the events depicted in the ME 2 DLC 'Lair of the Shadow Broker' and a concluding crossover in line with ME 3 are on the cards._

_**Setting:**__ Just after the events of Mass Effect._

_My "interpretation" of Shepherd is a Male War Hero, Spacer, Soldier (Specialisation: Shock Trooper)_

_**Note - **__All __**original**__ characters are of my own creation. Seek my permission if you wish to use them in your works._

Otherwise …

_**Disclaimers:**_

_**Copyrights for Warhammer 40,000 and related concepts, organizations, etc are the property of Games Workshop.**_

_**Copyrights for Mass Effect and related content are the property of BioWare.**_

_This is a redux of my first fanfic. Rate and review as you see fit. Constructive criticism and __**story-related**__ flaming appreciated._

* * *

_War. Destruction. Death._

_Three constant factors that have continued to haunt mankind ever since it arose into ascendance nearly 40 millenia ago, first from Earth, then within the Solar System and beyond. War was both a bane to mankind and the medium by which the emergent Imperium of Man has secured the vast expanses of the galaxy, establishing their dominion over the void over 10,000 years ago._

_But now, the days of mankind's power are waning._

_Aliens from every race and creed, from the barbaric and war-mongering green-skinned Orks, to the ancient Craftworlds of the Eldar, all bay and claw at the scattered remnants of humanity to fulfil their own agendas._

_Mutants and uncontrolled psykers thrive in the underground of many worlds, their genetic and psychic abnormalities regarded as dangerous – nay, even sinful - by the eyes of man. Shunned, these blights on the Imperium impatiently await the time they will rise up and throw off the shackles of their oppressors._

_In the end, these foes are but naught when compared to the nightmares that lurk beyond our mortal comprehension; beings who look upon the material realm with envy and tear through reality with one objective on their minds – the complete subjugation or death of all life._

_And yet, while a single human breaths and the Imperium's leader, the Emperor of Mankind, still clings to life, humanity will not go quietly. Millions of Imperial Guardsmen are constantly being mobilised to thousands of war-zones across the galaxy, dying in droves to hold the line against the Imperium's multitude enemies. The might of the Adeptus Astartes, genetically altered soldiers descendant from the Emperor himself, answer the call to arms and take the fight to humanity's foes. The Inquisition and the so-called Adeptus Mechanicus, the watchmen and the forgers for humanity, also labour from behind the scenes to aid in humanity's struggle._

_And yet, these men and women are barely able to hold the line against the darkness that draws ever closer to Earth – the home of our once erstwhile allies and the heart of the Imperium._

_It is the 41st millennium and the galaxy knows no peace …_

_**From the writings of an unknown xenos historian  
Translated by Imperial Archivist K'yr Fromn  
997.M41**_

* * *

_**Imperial Navy Transport "Bearer of His Name"**_

_**In orbit above Illius IV  
Segmentum Pacificus**_

_**One month prior to current date …**_

_**999.M41**_

The empty void above the hiveworld Illius IV was shattered as three vessels of the Imperial Navy roared out of a violet portal of the Warp. The gargantuan form of the cruiser '_Imperator Vult' _and its smaller kindred, the frigates '_Cerberus' _and '_Sword of Terra'_, as well as the transport '_Bearer of His Name'_, hung like spectres over the planet, portents of doom for the unsuspecting populace below.

Sergeant Richard Altern gazed out of one of the ship's observation windows as Imperial dropships and Valkyries began to swarm out from the '_Bearer's_ hanger bays, destined for the planet below his feet. His dark grey armour, grey and ochre patterned fatigues and the distinctive backpack, hell-pistol and power sabre typical of a sergeant in the renowned Imperial Shock-Troops cast him as a formidable figure – an ideal warrior to whom other Imperial Guardsman can aspire to – and, for other reasons, loathe.

The Sternberg-born sergeant sighed; how many insults have been hurled at him by his fellow Guardsmen? "Glory Boy"? "Big Toy Soldier"? He was no more human then the average Imperial Guard private - what would cause such derision over what station he held? He shook his head, running a gauntlet through close-cut blonde hair as he focused his mind on the upcoming assignment.

He did not know a lot about Illius IV initially, yet the briefing-sermon that had been delivered an hour ago revealed that this formerly loyal Imperial world was in the middle of an uprising by rebellious citizens, including isolated traitor elements within the local PDF. This certainly reeked of heresy and treachery; the High Lords of Terra had decreed that Illius IV was to be brought back into the fold of the Imperium by crushing the insurrectionists and scouring them from memory.

_Though one thing still bothers me_, the sergeant mused to himself. _We do not know who is in command of this mission. Whoever he or she is, they prefer to work through intermediaries, such as our Storm-Trooper company captain, Magnus Aureus._

_This mission was sanctioned from the High Lords of Terra, but -_

His thoughts were interrupted as the hatch hissed open and a second figure stepped into the room. Armed and armoured in a similar fashion to the sergeant, though slightly slimmer of heft then her male brethren, Corporal Loran Gallentus strode onto the observation deck and halted several meters away from the brooding Altern.

The corporal's voice cut through the silence as she spoke. "Sir, the assault has begun and the captain's voxed for us. It's time."

Grabbing his helmet and securing it to his head, Altern turned to the corporal, a steely gaze in his blue eyes as he growled, "Assemble the squad."

* * *

_**10 minutes later …**_

_**Valkyrie Beta Nine-Three**_

Altern felt the hull of the Valkyrie rattle as turbulence buffeted the gunship. Staring out of the starboard door, he watched as several other Valkyries and Vendettas swooped past, diving towards the contested hive-city below.

He turned his eyes back to his squad, who were strapped in restraining harnesses that held them bolt upright in their seats, their various weapons either clutched in their gauntlets or stored in holding spaces in between their seats. He smiled to himself – each squad-member had a different background, doctrine, even accents in a couple of cases, but all were united through several common denominators – duty, honor and their undying loyalty to the Emperor.

Shifting in his seat, Altern heard the distinct crackle of his helmet vox as vox-chatter went back and forth between the gunships that were descending on the hive-city.

"Alright, squad, listen up!" he radioed through the squad's vox channel, trying to make himself heard over the roar of the Valkyrie's engines.

"Our objective is to assist local PDF elements in stamping out this rebellion. Imperial Analyticae has confirmed that the rebels have fallen back to the hive's primary manufactorum, where they suspect the leadership of this uprising is holed up. We are to assist the loyalists in any way possible, then storm the building, purging the last of the rebels once and for all. Imperial Guardsmen and armour from the Illius 22nd will provide additional support for this assault."

"30 seconds," the pilot radioed. The Valkyrie buckled as anti-aircraft fire began to spit from the area around the manufactorum below, the rounds hissing past or slamming into one or more of the other gunships that were involved in the aerial assault, resulting in those unfortunate to be hit to erupt into flaming wreckage, plummeting towards the hive-city below.

As the Valkyrie's pitch changed for final approach and the Valkyrie's door gunners began to open fire on the rebels below, Altern muttered to his troops, "Let us pray for our souls, that we may be purified as we go into combat."

As his comrades bowed their heads, he began to recall the Warrior's Catechism of Worship, a prayer that Guardsmen undertook in preparation for combat.

Making himself heard over the howl of the Valkyrie's descent, he began, "_Look to your battle gear and it will protect you_."

The storm-troopers solemnly responded, "_We guard it with our lives_."

"_Your armour is your soul and your soul's dedication its armour."  
_"_The soul of a warrior is the protector of humanity_."

"15 seconds." The pilot reported, the Valkyrie's engines flaring as the craft prepared for touchdown.

"_Honor the craft of death_."  
"_Only the Emperor is higher in our devotion_."

Opening his eyes and gripping the pommel of his power weapon, Altern concluded, "_Honour the battle gear of the dead_."

The squad met his gaze as they avowed, "_We ask only to serve_."

The Valkyrie's landing gear _ca-chunked_ on the rubble and ruin of one of the hive's main thoroughfares, the ramp sharply clanging down as the squad rushed out of the passenger hold. Altern, clutching his hell-pistol in one gauntlet, followed his squad-mates outside, the roar and sights of battle filling his senses as they advanced towards the target building.

* * *

_**Manufactorum Interior**_

Deep within the bowls of the manufactorum, one of the rebels, a former member of the planet's PDF, ran through the corridors of the building, his lasgun slapping against his rear armour from its sling.

Eventually, the twisting and turning passages emerged into a wide, multi-levelled manufacturing area, the production lines running along its length having long since fallen silent. The lighting from the electro-candles was dim, casting little light across the near-twilight interior.

"They're here!" he yelled, fear edged into his voice as he sprinted towards the other side of the main floor. "The Imperial Guard has arrived!"

A chuckle echoed from the darkness, feminine, yet harsh. The traitor could see several silhouettes emerge from the darkness; one of them, effeminate in stature, gradually began to glow with a purplish-blue light.

The voice answered, "And we are ready for them."

* * *

_**Manufactorum Exterior- South Side**_

Altern winced as an autogun slug slashed mere inches past his head. He and his squad slammed into the nearest section of cover they could find amidst a ruined building as he assessed the situation.

Around 90 meters in front of him, framed against the imposing backdrop of the hive-city and surrounded by a wide clearing amidst rubble and ruins (now filled with both loyal Imperials and traitorous rebels), stood the formidable manufactorum – a mighty forge fortified through its multi-levelled construction, a formidable set of double doors (large enough to allow a Banebalade to pass through) and four towers on its corners, brisling with firing slits for infantry, Hydra flak batteries and several automated heavy bolters. Strewn in between the lines were the charred remains of traitor tanks, craters from explosives, as well as the nauseating sight of the dead and dying … all of this in where traitors and Imperial loyalists continued to trade blows with each other.

Peering for a few seconds over the top of the ruined wall, Altern was able to see a group of Guardsmen crouching behind the ruined carcass of a Lemun Russ. He glanced back to his squad and made a series of hand signals.

_Allies, 25 meters to our front. Move up by sections._

Readying his pistol, he mouthed, "Three, two, one … go!"

The Storm-Troopers stormed towards the tank wreck, trying to get across before the automated defences could pinpoint them. Gunfire peppered the ground around them; one of the Storm-Troopers yelped as an autogun round slashed his exposed thigh, crippling him.

"Keep moving!" Altern yelled back to his men as he ran. The wounded would have to fend for themselves for now, lest the entire squad was killed.

After a further 30 seconds of sprinting (and another casualty), Altern finally reached the wreck. He glanced back, performing a quick headcount as his squad joined him, crouching to avoid enemy fire.

He turned to the nearest Guardsman and yelled over the gunfire, "Sergeant Richard Altern! 97th Storm-Trooper Company! Who's in charge?"

"Sergeant Wherner, Illius 22nd!" a young, grime-covered sergeant yelled back. He had one arm held limp by his side, trailing blood on his green-grey uniform, while the other arm clutched his las-pistol.

Altern flinched as auto-gun fire ricocheted off the wreck. "What's the situation?"

"You're looking at the rebel's HQ, Sergeant!" the Illian sergeant explained. "The rebels are holed up within those four defence towers and the defence perimeter, suppressing both us and the other Imperial elements on the other sides. We've tried to get armour forward to knock down that door, but they have krak missile launchers on hand. Until we can knock those defences out, we can't advance on this side!"

"What about heavy weapons? Did you have any with your squad?" Altern inquired as another wave of Guardsmen rushed past them, lasguns blazing.

The sergeant pointed to a number of craters in between the lines, one of which contained a missile launcher and two dead Guardsmen.

Altern snarled to himself in annoyance; this was clearly going to be tricky. Formulating a plan, he barked out, "Corporal Gallentus and Private Darius, you are with me. Sergeant Wherner and everyone else, provide suppressing fire on the closest defence tower."

"On my mark …" Altern growled, gripping his hell-pistol and waiting for a break in enemy fire. Sergeant Wherner nodded, indicating his squad was ready.

"Now!"

* * *

_**Manufactorum – North Side**_

On the other side of the manufactorum, Storm-Trooper Sergeant Corralor and his men were making progress. Although the rebels has put up fierce resistance, he was lucky to link up with a tank squadron from the Illius 22nd. The latter, a squadron consisting of a Lemun Russ Vanquisher and two Demolishers, was currently in the process of flattening the defences – large chunks of masonry and durasteel dissipated under the tanks' bombardment, the red mist of blood adding to the flotsam as some unfortunate or other was obliterated by a blast.

Turning back to his squad and several nearby battered PDF platoons who were suppressing the defenders behind the barricades, he roared, "In the Emperor's name, advance!"

Rising up, the PDF troopers and the storm-troopers charged towards the defence barricade as the traitors poured fire into the Imperials. Guardsmen were dropping left and right, yet still they came on, eager to get to grips with their foe.

Eventually, the tide of Guardsmen began to clamber over the barricade, meeting their foes with short range or point-blank lasfire or through the steel of their bayonets. While the PDF busied itself with the defenders, Corralor's squad seized the initiative and leapt through the breach in one of the defence bastions. Within a matter of seconds, the lower level was cleared out, allowing them to access the manufactorum proper through a side-passage.

After several further minutes of frantic close-quarters fighting within the dimly lit and claustrophobic hallways and bulkheads within the manufactorum, the reduced squad emerged within one of the massive forge halls, the production lines ominously silent and the glow-candles all but snuffed out. Helmet-mounted lights gleamed into the darkness as the (now six men strong) squad advanced further into the yawning room, their lights playing on gleaming, refined metal and the adamantium walls.

Sensing the worst, Corralor urgently signalled his squad to halt, then tapped his second in command on the shoulder.

"Auspex!" he hissed. The trooper quickly responded, shouldering his hellgun and retrieving the scanning device.

"Anything?" Corralor queried as he panned his hell-pistol across the room.

Behind the visor of his rebreather mask, the trooper's eyes widened as he glanced at the readouts.

"I'm counting twenty - no, wait, thirty - contacts on the gantry above us!" the trooper responded as the squad trained their weapons on the second level gantry. The squad's head-lights picked out the silhouettes of thirty or more traitors staring down at them … their scavenged weapons aimed on the squad

"Wait, eight more to our front!" another squad-member called out as several xenos emerged from the darkness – two of them surrounded by an unusual glow; their intent was clear.

Corralor's curse was drowned out by the cracking of las-fire.

* * *

_**Manufactorum Exterior – South Side**_

Altern and his two compatriots skidded at the bottom of one of the multiple craters dotted across the landscape.

The concave surface of the crater was deep enough for the trio to avoid gunfire, yet only provided full protection for them in their currently crouched position. This was proved by the autogun fire pattering along the crater's rim, showering them with dirt.

Finding the bodies of the Illius heavy weapons team, Altern pushed the bullet-ridden body of one of the Guardsmen aside, a slight expression of distaste on his face as he retrieved the missile launcher.

"Darius." he hissed, gesticulating towards the missile pack still strapped to the dead loader's back. The storm-trooper nodded, working to free the satchel as Corporal Gallentus hefted her plasma gun, the distinctive whine of the charging power cells almost lost in the cacophony of the battle around them.

"What are we targeting, Sergeant?" she questioned, trying to keep her head down.

Altern braced the missile launcher against his shoulder as he explained, "You see those automatic bolter emplacements fixed on the sides of the bastion? I want you to destroy them, while myself and Darius will use krak missiles to breach the tower directly! Once that is done, we'll move inside!"

Altern felt movement at the back of the missile launcher and a slap on his shoulder armour. "Loaded!" Darius shouted as he grasped a second missile.

"Alright … go!"

Aiming the missile launcher, Altern sent a krak missile screeching towards the bastion. At roughly the same time, Gallentus' plasma gun fired, a bolt of plasma tearing one of the automated heavy bolters apart.

"Sergeant Wherner, keep up the suppressing fire and keep the bastards' heads down!" Altern voxed as he felt Darius load another missile. "Squad, move forward by sections and advance to the bastion once the tower has been breached!"

His ears rang as he fired again, the second missile punching into the bastion. He could hear the distant screams of wounded rebels and smiled grimly to himself. They would be inside the rebel's lair soon and they could bring this rebellion crashing down.

Pausing in firing and glancing back, Gallentus grinned, "And that's another, Sergeant!"  
"How many more of those fething bolters?"  
"Two more, top level! Should allow us to advance without harassment once they're gone!"

Altern ducked as rebel gunfire spat overhead. "Tell that to the insurrectionists!"

The next few minutes seemed to be the most agonising thus far for the Sergeant. His senses were on autopilot. Load, fire, reload, fire again – this constant routine droned on through his mind, drowning out any other thought or emotion.

Eventually, he felt a gauntlet shaking his shoulder and Gallentus shouting in his helmet earplug. "You've done it, Sergeant! The defences are breached!"

Glancing over the edge of the crater, Richard saw smoke emitting from a breach in the defence tower. Several metal stumps marked the remains of the heavy bolters.

Nodding in thanks to Private Darius, Altern an unknown officer yell on the vox, "All units, advance! Make the heretics pay for their crimes!"

With battle cries on their lips and trampling over the dead and dying, the nearby Guardsmen charged towards the enemy lines as Altern's squad entered the breach, shooting at anything that moved. The last time Sergeant Wherner saw them, the storm-troopers were filing through a bulkhead door into the manufactorum proper.

* * *

_**Manufactorum Interior**_

Emerging within the primary manufactorum hall, Altern's squad fanned out, trying to cover as much of the area as possible. Helmet lights flickered on, the opressive darkness proving difficult to see with the naked eye.

"Looks quiet." One of the troopers piped up on the squad's vox-link.

"Too quiet. Keep your eyes open." Corporal Gallentus whispered back, tracking her plasma gun across her fore.

Something clacked against Richard's boot. Acting on instinct, Altern aimed downwards, his helmet light revealing the bloodied, helmeted visage of Sergeant Corralor.

"Movement!" one of the squad added. Footsteps echoed in the darkness as the squad aimed towards a group of silhouettes stepping out of the shadows.

"So, the mighty Imperium of Man has come to hunt down the last of the 'blasphemous' xenos?" one of the figures mocked, stepping further into the light pooling from the multiple head lamps now flashing in their direction. This alien, feminine of form and blue-skinned, wore what appeared to be a suit of ebony carapace armour, though this and the sidearm she had holstered on her hip were of a pattern that Altern couldn't recognise. Her demeanour, bordering on arrogance, unnerved the sergeant; he aimed his hell-pistol towards the alien as a faerie glow began to surround her.

"In the name of the Imperium and the God Emper -"

Altern found himself flung into the nearest wall, the impact stunning him and causing his vision to blur. He was dimly aware of gunfire erupting from both his squad and the now emergent rebels, who charged towards the storm-trooper's positions as they dived for what cover they could find. Groaning in pain, he tried to move his arms, yet he seemed to be pinned in place.

Where was his hell-pistol?

The female xeno chuckled. Stepping towards the pinned sergeant, she casually kicked the sidearm to one side, sending it skidding out of the storm-trooper's reach. All the while, she had been keeping an arm thrust towards the sergeant.

_What power of the Warp is __**this**__?_ Altern inwardly panicked, trying in vain to struggle against the alien's psychic grip.

"Do you really believe that we would be found to be weak and helpless?" she taunted, ignoring the swirling melee that was taking place. "Our peoples have met before, human. We do not forget our history - or the transgressions of others - so easily."

"What … what the Throne are you talking about, xeno?" Altern spat in disbelief.

"Does it matter?" she snapped in reply. "The blood of my kin and that of my fellows are on your heads! You, the vaunted, crumbling empire of humanity who adhere to the worship of a dying man and the orders of leaders who send thousands to die so that the doomed Imperium might survive another day!"

A sudden crashing of rubble and flooding of sunlight emitted from the far end of the manufactorum. Through the breach, the sergeant could make out several hulking, armoured giants, led by a robed figure. As Guardsmen flooded in and gunfire lanced from the guns of the attackers, the robed man roared, "Suffer not the alien to live!"

"Pity you will never live to see another sunrise, Sergeant!" the alien seethed, ignoring the new arrivals as she withdrew her sidearm and levelled it at Altern's head.

Feeling a sudden increase in pressure on his skull, Altern could make out her face contort into rage as his world faded to black.

* * *

**A/N: UPDATE: **Thanks to a reviewer's suggestion, as of 06/06/2012, I have added a Dramatis Personae list here that lists all named personnel and the ships involved. This list will be added to as the story develops.

**DRAMATIS PERSONAE:**

**SHIPS AND PERSONNEL OF THE IMPERIUM OF MAN**

Governor General A. Gerrad** – **senior commander of all Imperial forces of the detachment and commander of the Gorgian 497th Infantry Regiment

Lt General E. Jungter – commander of the 85th Sternberg Mechanised Regiment

Lord Admiral P. Diomedus – overall Imperial Navy commander of the fleet

"_**Bearer of His Name"**_(Imperial Navy Transport)

_85th Sternberg Mechanised Regiment_

Regimental Commissar Kliest

Captain Aetos – Aide and Regiment 2IC

_497th Gorgian Infantry Regiment_

_(None named, as of yet)_

_97th Storm Trooper Company_

Sergeant Richard Altern – Storm Trooper Sergeant

Captain Marcus Aureus – Former company commander. Deceased

Corporal L. Gallentus – Altern's 2IC and squad plasma gunner

Sergeant J. Verrik – Storm Trooper Sergeant

"_**Blade of Righteousness"**_(_Retribution_-class battleship) – Fleet Flagship

Captain W. Xavier – Ship's Commander

Executive Officer Brakket – Xavier's 2IC

Senior Navigator Aripides – Ship's Navigator

"_**Divinitus Imperium"**_(_Emperor_-class battleship)

Arch-Confessor Davidicus – Senior Naval Ecclesiarch

Sergeant Bartholomew – Ship's Company Sergeant at Arms

"_**Emperor's Wrath"**_(_Apocalypse_-class battleship)

"_**Ommnisiah Virtrix"**_(Adeptus Mechanicus support ship/transport)

Naval Tech-Magos Omnuris – Senior Mechanicus techpriest

"_**General Crassus"**_ (_Gothic_-class heavy cruiser)

_**Crimson 17**_ (Frigate Escort Squadron)

Two, as of yet, unidentified frigates

**A/N: **And there we are! Feel free to rate and comment under the Review section.


	2. Chapter 1  Fickleness of the Warp

**A/N: **Welcome to the second installment of "Tip of the Spear: Edge of the Blade (Redux)".

This chapter will deal with the "crossing over" itself and thus is the 'true' beginning of this work. If any readers from my first run of this are reading this, you may recognise some of the older material I have reused and expanded on.

I would like to apoligise in advance for any Warhammer fan 'Puritans' (I'm joking, I'm joking!) who may have nitpicks with how certain technologies or as such are depicted - I was working with limited materials at the time (Fourth and Fifth Ed. Imperial Guard Codex, Battlefleet Gothic online material and the few scraps I could get from Lexicanum), so don't be surprised if you find fact holes here and there.

As usual, all of the original material and copyrights belong to Games Workshop (Warhammer 40,000) and Bioware (Mass Effect). I am just a lowly fan expressing my admiation for these works through this work and do not intend to profit from this in any way.

And, as always, feel free to leave reviews and comments via the 'Review' section.

+The Emperor Protects+

* * *

_**Imperial Navy Transport "Bearer of His Name"  
**__**Transport for the 97**__**th**__** Storm-Trooper Company  
**__**In orbit above Sternberg  
**__**Segmentum Pacificus**_

_**Current Date - 999.M41  
**__**One month after Illius IV operation …**_

Sergeant Richard Altern stared down on the hive world below him, a morbid fascination running through his mind as he glared down at the smog-polluted skies; his birthplace. He could still see fires burning within the principal hive-city's confines and patchy smoke rising into the atmosphere.

Some part of him seemed to have died upon that world. After all, the human psyche tended to form an attachment, an identity, to places or people who are significant to them. Storm-Troopers, however, had such elements purged from their minds; young indoctrinates to the Scholea Progenium had been told time and time again that their only home was wherever they were sent and their families were now their comrades or their superiors. Their pasts, whatever the circumstances or history, were dead. Their lives were now devoted to the God-Emperor, first and foremost. – little else mattered.

According to Captain Aureus, his superior, the High Lords had the Imperium follow up on the events at Illius IV. Sternberg, it seemed, had also fallen into sedition, though the instigators could not have been determined, or so Captain Aureus had explained to Richard within the ship's medicae. He had injured while fighting on Sternberg, as was attested to the bandaged right arm, as well as the pits and scarring on his carapace armour.

Trying to think back to the events that occurred, however, caused the sergeant to cringe as intense pain ran through his mind; his body instinctively reacted, doubling over. Clearing his mind, he got up and steadied himself as the pain eventually ebbed away from his body. He couldn't recall anything from the battle on the surface and any attempts were clearly being denied by some unknown force.

"Why can't I remember what happened down there?" he hissed in frustration to himself as he regained his composure.

Any further musing was interrupted as a voice crackled on the wall-mounted vox-horn. _"All Imperial Guardsmen and 97__th__ Storm-Trooper Company personnel, report to the briefing hall. Repeat, report to the briefing hall immediately."_

Altern sighed to himself as he began to walk out of the observation room. The transport his company had been calling home for the past few months had recently embarked two additional units: the Gorgean 497th Infantry Regiment, under General Adrian Gerrad, and the battered and under-strength 85th Sternberg Grenadiers, a combined mechanised infantry and armour regiment under the auspice of Lt. General Erik Jungter; this regiment (unknown to the sergeant) had been amidst the Imperial forces who were recently involved in the conflict on their home world.

"Here's hoping that the commanders of these regiments are up to the task ahead of us … whatever it is." Altern muttered as he made his way to the briefing hall, not stopping to spare a second glance at the world burning below him.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Briefing Hall  
**_**_"Bearer of His Name"_**

_**Twelve minutes later…**_

Entering the briefing hall, Altern tried to find a seat amidst the crowded interior. As he found a suitable seat alongside his squad, he glanced about, noting the various Guardsmen from the two regiments in the same area, a clash of green and grey uniforms within the sombre and flat coloured interior of the briefing hall; the hall itself consisted of the seating area, suitable for at least several thousand humans, the speaker's stage, where prominent officers could brief personnel on upcoming campaigns, and large actuality sphere display, currently manned by several crewmen and deactivated for the immediate moment.

As a pair of figures emerged on the platform at the far end of the hall, a Commissar bellowed, "Attention!"

Richard and his Storm Trooper comrades rose rapidly from their seats and stood at attention. The other Guardsmen also paid respect as General Gerrad and Lt General Jungter stepped forward to address the assembly.

Altern studied the two generals closely. One of them was a man who appeared to be in his late fifties. His grey-haired head bore a face chiselled with scars and his eyes were cold, made all the more so by the targeting eye-piece he wore over his right side eye. A crimson cloak bordered with gold trim hung from the shoulders of an ornate, dark green uniform and his chest and shoulders were encased in aged armour. Finally, he wore two lightning claws that extended up to the elbows, one bearing a plasma weapon mounted on the back of the right hand gauntlet.

The man he presumed to be Jungter, on the other hand, bore a bionic left eye and he wore a tattered ebony cloak, torn from gunfire, slashes and general wear and tear. The younger, brown haired commander had clearly forgone ceremonial uniform, favouring of a suit of steel-grey carapace armour; the only medals he bore were a Macharian Cross and a Honorifica Imperialus hanging from his neck. As far as weapons were concerned, Jungter bore a power sword sheathed at his side and the sergeant could make out the formidable outline of a bolt pistol holstered and strapped to the general's upper thigh. Lastly, though it was difficult for him to see from his seat, Altern noted that the general was missing his right arm at the elbow, a bionic limb replacing the destroyed arm.

As the Guardsmen and storm-troopers were bade to sit, Gerrad's voice boomed across the hall, the acoustics and several vox-emmitters conveying his words to the mass of soldiers assembled before him.

"Guardsmen, this day marks a dark chapter in the history of the Imperium of Man." He paused, allowing the barrack-room banter to die down completely before continuing.

"The High Lords of Terra have demanded that all Imperial Guard elements available are to be diverted to combat traitorous demagogues that threaten our own space. These heretics care not that it is _**OUR **_destiny to rule the stars, nor for our rights of lordship. These defilers of the Imperium have plagued our Emperor's realm for ten thousand years. Now, once again, we hold the line against them at Chaos' heart, the Eye of Terror, where these heretics have dared to attack our comrades at Cadia!"

Murmurs of disbelief ran through the men; they had heard little about the forces of Chaos, save for several terrified accounts from other Guardsmen, the next to little material released by the Departo Munitorum and the hateful ranting of Commissars warning them against its insidious influence.

The electro-candles within the hall dimmed, the hall now lit by a projection from the actuality sphere, bathing the area in soft viridian light. Several images were displayed before the hundreds of pairs of eyes, including vid-footage from Imperial propoganda praising the victory at Tyrok Fields.

"The forces of Chaos first showed their hand at Tyrok Fields on Cadia, where Guardsmen in league with the Ruinous Powers attacked loyalist forces while they were being inspected. Though the Governor Primus lost his life and the command Leviathan he was embarked on was temporarily in the hands of the enemy, the Cadian 7th and 8th Regiments, under the command of Ursarkar Creed, successfully eliminated the enemy forces, recaptured the Leviathan and claimed the battlefield."

The actuality sphere flickered, now switching to a tactical map displaying the Eye of Terror and the nearby planetary systems.

"But the battle is not over." Gerrad added grimly. Several icons, representing Imperial and Chaos forces flashed on the map; Imperial aquilas were few and spread out across the map (save for Cadia and the passage of space nearby the planet, where a strong Imperial presence was noted). On the other hand, the eight-pointed stars of Chaos were concentrated within the Eye and gradually beginning to expand.

"We now have multiple reports that a massive Chaos force is spreading out from the Eye of Terror, with the main thrust heading for the Cadian Gate. These include, not just traitorous Guardsmen and the associated lost and damned, but also various warbands and companies from the Traitor Legions of Chaos, all of which are under the overall command of one of a traitor Astartes known as 'Abbadon, the Despoiler'. "

Altern could almost feel his blood boil and he clenched his fists. The forces of Chaos were anathema to everything that the Imperium stood for, desiring nothing less then the utter destruction of the Emperor and everything He On Earth had striven to build ten millennia ago.

The voice of General Gerrad droned on. "Due to the severity of the crisis, the High Lords have diverted significant Guard forces from other warzones to meet and contain this threat. Also, multiple Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes and detachments from the College Titanica, Adeptus Mechanicus and the Chamber Militants of the Inquisition are en route."

As the electro-candles relit to their full brightness, Gerrad briefly glanced over the men assembled before him before he stated, "Our two regiments and the 97th Storm-Trooper Company are amongst those called upon."

This sparked several outcries from some of the junior officers, with several of the enlisted personnel lending their voices to the brewing argument. Others murmured amidst themselves about their predicament. Altern, despite his steely nerve, felt a slight shadow of dread overhanging him; he had learned over his years of service that any Guard deployment against Chaos forces was inevitably a death sentence due to the dangerous will and manpower that the Ruinous Powers' devotees could bring against the Imperium and the unholy powers that served as both their allies in combat and the masters they knelt to.

As disciplinary officers and Commissars restored order and the talking died down, Jungter stepped forward. "Our cause is righteous! The Imperium has resisted the forces of Chaos for over ten millennia." He gestured to the actuality sphere display. "And here, at the Cadian Gate, we shall do so once more! We will not rest until all the vile servants of the Ruinous Powers are lying dead at out feet or we bathe the stars in our own blood!"

This was met with nods of approval by some of the men.

Gerrad took the floor once more as he concluded the briefing. "Prepare yourselves and your gear and return to your billets; your platoon and company commanders will be issuing your orders in due course once we depart for the Eye of Terror. Dismissed!"

"The Emperor Protects!" the Guardsmen uttered as they began to disperse.

Few amidst those thousands of souls would know how much that their lives were about to change.

* * *

_**Systems Alliance frigate SSV "Normandy"  
**__**Docked at Berth 422  
**__**Citadel Station Wards  
**__**Serpent Nebula**_

_**Current Date – 15**__**th**__** March, 2183**_

_**Two days after the Reaper Incursion...**_

Commander Christopher Shepard marched onto the bridge of the Normandy, a slight grin playing on his features as he glanced over the shoulders of various crewmembers as they went about their work.

His confidence and joviality was not without reason, either - after the skirmish on and above the Citadel, the Council, with newly appointed representative, David Anderson, had arranged for Shepard and his crew several days R&R while repairs on the "_Normandy"_, indeed much of the Citadel, were carried out. However, there was one last assignment before the "_Normandy"_ was temporarily placed in "drydock": a security patrol along the Citadel's perimeter.

"Seems to be a major notch down from confronting apocalyptic Reapers." Shepard muttered to himself, "I kind of miss the old days, the so-called 'tough jobs' "

Stopping himself from bursting into laughter, he arrived at the Command/Information Centre (CIC). After activating the massive holo-map that dominated the area, Shepherd quickly routed the patrol co-ordinates to Joker, Normandy's wise-cracking pilot.

"Joker, do you have our patrol route plotted in?"

"Done and dusted, sir! Got 'em right here!"

"Very well. Take us out, Mr Moreau, maximum speed if you please!"

A few minutes later, Joker reported over the intra-ship comms, "Board is green. We are on course and running silent, Commander."

* * *

**_Retribution-class battleship "Blade of Righteousness"  
Flagship of Admiral Praeton Diomedus_**

The fleet arrayed before Admiral Praeton Diomedus was, by an escort fleet's standards, impressive. The fleet, some vessels only recently commissioned, consisted primarily of the few ships available on short notice within Segmentum Pacificus, as a significant part of the Segmentum's fleet were tied up on other fronts. Besides the troop transports, the motley escort fleet consisted of several frigate and destroyer squadrons of various classes, a few battle cruisers and three battleships – _"Blade of Righteousness"_, the ageing Apocalypse-class _"Emperor's Wrath"_ and the Emperor-class _"Divinitus Imperium"._

Diomedus grimly smiled to himself, imagining the scale of destruction such power was at his command as he paced the bridge, his knee high boots clicking against the polished deck as he inspected the actuality sphere's tactical map.

Captain William Xavier, commander of the _"Blade of Righteousness"_ interrupted Diomedus' musings. The captain, his mind bio-linked to the ship itself and his golden armour locked into his command throne, reported with a tone that belied his position.

"Lord-Admiral, all vessels report ready for Warp jump."

Pausing, as if to commit this moment to memory, the Admiral acknowledged, "Proceed when ready, Captain."

"Yes, Admiral!"

The fleet streaked through space, accelerating their Warp engines to maximum velocity. As the ether of the Warp opened before them, swallowing the fleet whole, Diomedus braced himself next to Xavier's command throne.

A sudden blow rocked the _"Blade of Righteousness"_, sending most of the bridge crew crashing to the deck.

"Report!" Xavier yelled over the wailing of alarm klaxons, trying to belie the pain in his voice; a side effect of linking to the ship was that he felt everything, even the damage his vessel was taking.

"Warp anomaly! Unknown origin!" an ensign reported in panic. "Vessel has sustained critical damage! The Gellar field generator has been damaged! Hull breaches on multiple decks! Fires reported in Engineerum and our flank gun batteries are reporting hull breaches in their area!"

Panic rippled through the ship's vox as captains urgently sent distress calls, broadcasting the dire straits their vessels were being caught up in. From the few fragments Diomedus was able to gather from the overlapping transmissions, the fleet was being ripped apart. Multiple vessels were being lashed by Warp ether or destroyed by the battering Warp 'currents', the crews of those unfortunate vessels sent reeling out into the void like the oxygen that was being depressurised from breached bulkheads.

Diomedus was at a loss to explain this … occurrence. Imperial vessels are normally relatively proof against the Warp. There seemed no other justification for this unusual Warp activity barring…

_God-Emperor protect us, daemons!_

Stumbling over to Xavier, he bellowed over the cacophony, "Captain! Order our fleet to exit the Warp! We cannot remain in such a state!"

Xavier shouted into his vox-transmitter, trying desperately to reach the fleet while stopping himself from being thrown about as the vessel buckled. "All vessels, this is a direct order! Shut down Warp engines and exit the Warp! I repeat, all vessels, shut your Warp-drives down now!"

The fleet, what little was left of it, came screaming out of the Warp…

* * *

_**Armoury  
**__**"Bearer of His Name"**_

_**Two minutes before Warp transit catastrophe…**_

Sgt Altern and his squad were busy in the armoury. As with the other Guardsmen in the same room comrades, they were busy checking weapons and gear, in preparation of what could be expected to be a hard fight ahead.

An alert sounded within the ship via the vox-horns mounted in the armoury: _"Code Magenta procedure in progress. All personnel stand by for Warp jump. Code Magenta…"_

Altern reached for his rebreather oxygen mask and put it on. One of the nearby Sternberg Guardsmen, the single stripe on his shoulder pad denoting him as a recruit (or "Whiteshield", to use a Cadian term), stole a look at him in inquisition. "Sergeant, what are you doing? It's only a standard Warp jump -"

Altern cut in. "Believe me, recruit. I have been fighting before you were a child. Our ships have some form of protection from the Warp, but I am not taking that chance, only to-"

A series of blows rocked the vessel, bowling Guardsmen about. Fighting sudden gravity changes to stand up Altern's heart jumped as he realized what was happening.

_By the Emperor, NO!_

Klaxons wailed as Altern shouted to the others still recovering, "Everybody out!"

A shrieking sound emitted from the hull as warp ether began to seep through cracks in the far wall. Suddenly, the wall caved in, sharply decompressing the bulkhead. As Altern urgently grabbed hold of a support column, those who were closest to the exits scrambled out, sealing the doors behind them. Others were not so fortunate; either sent screaming out into the Warp or trapped in the armoury as the emergency exits sealed, those on the other side helpless to act.

He felt the transport sharply decelerate as it exited the Warp; a second blow sent him spiralling to the floor. As he scrabbled for the door, a dislodged girder crashed down, crushing his left leg and grinding into the deck as it was sent floating towards the breach in the hull. Altern screamed in agony as pain unlike anything he knew before shot through his veins. He was helpless to act as zero gravity sent him reeling out of the hole into the depths of the void.

Trying and failing to ignore the agony in his broken leg, he groped for his emergency light, praying that death came swiftly…

* * *

**_SSV "Normandy"  
Serpent Nebula_**

A blow shook the Normandy. Picking himself up, Shepard ran to Joker's station.

"Joker! What the hell just happened?"

"I haven't got a clue!" Joker shot back, his hands dancing over the controls as he fought to stabilise the frigate.

"Commander!" Navigator Pressley shouted from the navigator's station on the bridge, "Massive anomaly forming to port!"

"How large is it?" Shepard yelled as he thundered back to the CIC.

Pressley looked up, panic starting to crease his face. "Massive, as in 'off the damn charts!' "

The commander quickly hammered commands into a console, bringing up a view of the anomaly on the galactic map. It seemed to be a violet maw, though the computers were unable to identify what form of energy it was consisting of. The sensors also noted several large vessels near the 'portal', however they were of an unknown make to Shepard

_It doesn't look to be natural, nor does it bear the hallmark of Geth handiwork ... Oh hell!_

Punching the ship wide intercom, Shepard barked out orders "All hands, battle stations! Combat unit, report to the bridge immediately! Joker, set course for the anomaly, maximum speed!"

Klaxons began ringing out as Joker swerved the frigate sharply. Shepard's unit came charging up the stairs as garbled inquiries came pealing from all five of them at once.

"Keehlah, what was-"  
"Skipper, what the hell just-"  
"Did we just get hit, Commander?"  
"There better be a fight going on-"  
"Goddess, what has-"

"Everyone, settle down!" Shepard yelled. Once the fracas stopped, he began to explain hurriedly. "The Normandy has just encountered an anomaly. It's not natural, so I am assuming-"

"Reapers?" Tali probed, panic tingeing her voice.  
"Possibly. We are diverting from our patrol in order to investigate it."

Shepard began barking out orders. "Garrus, get in contact with C-Sec and have them scramble fighters in case this is a Reaper incursion!"

"Yes, Commander" Garrus hurried to the comms terminal on the bridge to relay the order.

"Everyone else, lock and load! We don't know what to expect, so remain on high alert. Gear up and report back to the comm room in ten minutes."

Four sets of boots clanged against the steel floor of the frigate as Shepard's crew made headway for the ship's armoury. Garrus went after them.

"C-Sec is reporting that all available craft are scrambled, Shepherd. They are awaiting your word."  
"Excellent work, Garrus! Carry on!"

As Garrus hurried to join the others, Shepard reflected, _"I pray that this isn't the worst!"_

* * *

"_**Blade of Righteousness"  
**__**Unknown Space **_

_**Imperial Date - Unknown**_

On the wrecked bridge of the _"Blade of Righteousness"_, grabbing onto the captain's command throne and pulling himself upright, Diomedus hoarsely called, "Report, Captain!"

Fighting back the agony of his ship that washed through him, Captain Xavier glanced over readouts as he reported, "We have exited the Warp, Admiral. Warp activity has ceased... for now."

"And our exit?"  
"It's closed, Admiral, though I do not doubt that the entry point on the other side could still be accessed."

Nodding, Diomedus asked, "Can you appraise our location?"

Xavier quickly scanned his tact-logi screen with a furrowed brow. His eyes widened in shock as he spoke.

"Sir, whatever that anomaly was, we have emerged way off course! Unless these readings are wrong, we are no longer in the Segmentum Pacificus, nor Imperial-controlled space!"

Diomedus roared, "What! Scan for any Imperial vox-traffic!"

His mind raced. _We can't be! Surely…_

A few moments later, Xavier shook his head in disbelief. Nothing.

Diomedus sighed in barely-contained annoyance. "Very well. Contact our fleet and inform all able ships to follow our heading. We need to find out where we are or if there are any outposts nearby … wherever we are. All vessels that are unable to follow will begin repairs."

"That would be our entire fleet, Admiral." Xavier added grimly. "We have lost nearly two thirds of our fleet and what is left is in no condition to fight; some can't even move!"

"Fine! Then what of our ship?" Diomedus snapped.  
"The _"Blade of Righteousness"_ still has limited power and Engineerum has reported that the fires within have been contained."  
"Weapons?"  
"Our prow torpedos are still able to fire and one of our dorsal lances is operable. Otherwise, our port and starboard guns are damaged and are currently out of commission until they can be repaired."

A sudden shout from Executive Officer Brakket interrupted the banter.

"Lord- Captain," he reported, a hint of awe in his voice, "Scans have detected one orbital facility nearby. Whatever it is, it is massive; over 5 times the size of our vessel!"

"Can you establish visual?" Xavier gruffly inquired.

Fiddling with the actuality sphere's console, Brakket replied, "Aye sir. Coming up now!"

The actuality sphere flickered as it displayed the 'outpost'. To the revulsion of the Admiral and the bridge officers who could see the display, it was clearly not an Imperial design, nor of the design of any forces that they knew of. The station comprised of five arms 45 kilometres in length, connected by a 'ring' at its centre. Ships of multiple types swarmed about the station, passing by, docking or on patrol.

_What hand of fate has delivered us here?_ Diomedus wondered to himself.

"Sir! I have a single vessel on an intercept course for our fleet!" a crewman manning a sensor-augur computer called out.

Captain Xavier snapped his gaze to the ship's tactical station. "Can we identify it?"

Tactical Officer Serrice, working the ship's sensor-augers frantically, soon gained results. "Sir, the vessel is unknown to us and, with our long range sensor-augers down, I cannot gain any solid scan confirmation. However, it appears to be smaller then an Imperial frigate; very little threat to our fleet."

She looked up as she spoke, "Shall I have our working gun crews alerted?"

"Negative," Xavier dismissed. "We do not wish to alarm these … unknowns to our position. We don't know how these locals will react to-"

"Sir," Vox-Officer Quermire called, "the incoming vessel is hailing us."

Xavier looked to the Admiral, expectantly awaiting his decision.

After contemplating his decision, he nodded. "Ensign Quermire, establish contact with the vessel."

"Yes, Lord-Admiral."

Xavier muttered bitterly, "Now, we will find out where in the blasted Warp we have ended up."

* * *

**A/N:** How will the crew of the "Normandy" react to these new arrivals? And what of the Imperial fleet - how will they react?

Stay tuned for the next instalment!


	3. Chapter 2  A Strange Foreboding

_**A/N: **__Thanks to everyone who has provided feedback so far on this. Your enthusiasm and advice continues to inspre me._

_Anyways, on that note, I would have to apoligise in advance for the late arrival of this fic. Unfortunately, my hometown, indeed, much of Queensland has been under floodwaters and, well, being on the move constantly and away from an Internet connection does not do wonders for a fanfic writer trying to finish and upload his work._

_On one final note, I may be going back over my preious work and providing some editing. I'll advise at the beginning of each new chapter which chapter has been altered._

_As always, feel free to leave appropriate feedback in the review section or PM me if you have any questions or other commentary._

_Enjoy._

_**+The Emperor Protects+**_

* * *

"_**Bearer of His Name"**_

_**Unknown Space**_

_**Imperial Date - Unknown**_

Lt General Jungter stormed down one of the hallways of the Navy transport, several of his aides and command staff in lockstep with him. As Guardsmen and Navy personnel darted out of their way, Jungter's attaché Commissar Kliest was rattling off a situation report.

"… as well as multiple casualties amidst Third and Fourth Company and the complete loss of Platoons Three to Six in Fifth Company. Also, our Techpriest attaches report the loss of multiple vehicles from-"

Jungter snatched the report from the Commissar's grip and perused through the list himself, his lips curled into a snarl as he glanced over the data. This news did not bode well. The regiment had already been under strength after the debacle on their homeworld; to lose more men and equipment before they even reached the outskirts of the Cadian Gate was short of a disaster.

Further down the hall, an Imperial Navy officer came running towards Jungter. Slowing to a stop, he saluted and began to urgently talk.

"Sir, General Gerrad requests your presence at the detention deck immediately."

His bionic eye whirring as he focussed on the officer, Jungter frowned as he asked, "For what reason?"

"He didn't say, sir."

Nodding, Jungter stated to Kliest, "Keep me appraised of our situation. In the meantime, have the officers see to the men and our armour."

"Yes, sir." Kliest concluded, leading the command staff away as Jungter followed the Navy officer to the cells.

* * *

_**Detention Cells**_

"_**Bearer of His Name"**_

There seemed to be an unearthly wailing emitting from the cell block as Jungter strode inside. He had heard screams of suffering before – from both his men and the multitude of foes he had faced in the past – but this seemed ethereal and terrifying at the same time. Merely thinking about it made Jungter feel a chill creep down his spine.

The grim figure of General Gerrad (as well as two shotgun armed Navy armsmen) waited by one of the cells. The armsmen snapped to attention as Jungter approached.

"General, is there a reason I have been called here, while I have a crisis in my regiment no less?" Jungter indignantly snapped.

Gerrad's eyes bore into Jungter as he replied, "There is." He turned to the armsmen, commanding "Open the cell."

One of them nodded and began turning the wheel to unlock the door. As the soldier continued to work, Gerrad continued to talk.

"Apart from damage reports, Admiral Diomedus has informed me that he has also been getting reports from what's left of the fleet that most of the Navis Nobilite psykers are being affected in some way – whether by the Warp or some side effect of our little incident, we do not know. Most are going insane; others have isolated themselves from the rest of the crews or have lashed out."

As the guard finished with the locking mechanism, Gerrad concluded, "A few have bestowed upon themselves the Emperor's Mercy without explanation or any signs of Warp possession." He muttered, "A waste."

"What? Why are they doing this?" Jungter frowned, slightly puzzled; the ways of the various Imperial psykers had constantly eluded him during his service in the Guard.

Gerrad gestured to the open cell, adding grimly, "That's what we intend to find out."

Nodding grimly, Jungter stepped inside the cell, Gerrad handing him a luma-lamp as the guards resumed their vigil; Gerrad stayed outside.

Within the dank and dark cell, Jungter could make out a robed figure huddled in one of the far corners. As he activated the lamp, the features of the prisoner could be made out clearly. The prisoner was somewhat slim, clad in a green robe and hood that had clearly been befouled by some unidentifiable substance (_"Possibly due to the perspiration in the air."_ Jungter observed) and he could make out brown dreadlocks trailing from the edges of the hood. A staff, topped with the distinctive symbol of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, lay discarded nearby and Jungter could hear soft sobbing from the prisoner.

"Astropath," he began, a slight edge of nervousness in his voice. The psyker did not move.

"Astropath, stand in the Emperor's name." he added again, more sternly this time.

This time, the psyker arose, though she kept her back to the commander. The crying seemed to have stopped, though Jungter could still hear laboured breathing from the woman; she was trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Do you understand the Emperor's will, Lt General?" the psyker whispered hoarsely.

"We are instruments and servants of the Emperor, Astropath." Jungter responded. "Nothing more."

The woman turned to face him; Jungter noted that the only adornments the Astropath bore were an Aquila hanging from a chain on the psyker's neck and a large, thick bandage that covered her eyes.

"Then, for your sake, you must inform your superiors to gather the fleet and depart this place immediately." she replied, starting to step towards him. Something about the woman's tone of voice did not seem right.

"We cannot." Jungter replied, now starting to become wary of this woman. "The fleet is in no shape to be-"

Suddenly, the psyker leapt towards Jungter, her robes flapping as the Astropath rammed him into the far wall. The psyker's hands began to attack the General as he helplessly tried to restrain her.

"You do not understand!" she screamed. "The light of the Astronomican is not within the sight of my brethren! It's gone! The Emperor is no more; we are lost!"

Gerrad burst in, grabbed the psyker and dragged her off of the pinned Jungter. The Navy armsmen barged inside, restraining the maddened Astropath as the two generals exited. Jungter could still hear the terrified screams of the Astropath as he left the detention block.

"The light of the Emperor has faded! We are doomed! Naught but -" Jungter cringed as he heard a shotgun go off.

Gerrad seemed to shrug the overall feeling of dread off as he sternly added, "While you were conversing with the former Astropath, I have received further news. Admiral Diomedus has reported that he has made contact with an unidentified vessel."

Jungter glanced at Gerrad in surprise. "Anything we know about it?"

"No. The _"Blade of Righteousness"_ is about to make vox-contact with the vessel now. Hopefully, we might be able to know a little bit about what we are up against … before we wipe them off of the face of the universe."

As the two of them entered an elevator heading for the bridge, Gerrad grinned, "And who knows? Performing this sacred work might be satisfying."

* * *

_**Comm Room**_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

In the comms room, Shepard's squad, armed and armoured, awaited tensely. The recent events have mystified them; hushed and excited banter went back and forth amongst the five of them.

At length, Shepard finally entered, his battle-worn Titan IV armour clunking against the deck as he strode in. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, noting the entering commander, stiffly stood and snapped to attention.

"Ten-hut!" The others quickly stood.

Acknowledging them, Shepard gruffly responded, "At ease!"

As his team sat down, he brought up a tactical map on the screen dominating the room. It showed the nebulae and the recently-formed anomaly.

Clearing his throat, he began. "This is the situation: We have an unknown special anomaly formed here." The map zoomed onto the anomaly itself, a magenta tear in space. "Ladar scans have picked up at least twenty to thirty unknown vessels holding position here." Several icons appeared a short distance from the anomaly.

He turned to his crew. "We are unsure as to their origin; however, scans have indicated that they are neither Geth, nor any other hostile vessel that we have documented."

"Perhaps this is a new space-faring race from the Traverse or Terminus Systems, Commander?" Garrus suggested.

Shepard rebutted, "Not likely. We haven't been able to gain solid intel on these vessels, however, they clearly have no form of mass effect FLT drive or any design conventions of any known race. As far as we are concerned, these are definitely not from known space."

"So what now, skipper?" Williams piped up. "We go aboard those ships and find out who they are?"

"Not until we are able to determine their intent." Shepard responded. "We don't want to get caught in the middle of a slugging match."

He radioed the bridge. "Joker, patch us through to the lead vessel of that formation and reroute the transmission to the comms room."

"Just leaving our calling card, sir?"

Shepard snorted. "You could say that."

"Comms open, sir." The display fizzled for a few seconds, replaced with a visual of the unidentified ships. The commander heard his team mutter in amazement at what they saw – gargantuan, trireme-like vessels, larger then Citadel space dreadnaughts and bristling with weapons. He could also see hull breaches and smog from dying fires amidst many of the stricken ships; several were listing aimlessly or firing their engines in an attempt to steady their bearings.

Swallowing his fear, Shepard stepped forward, "This is Staff Commander Christopher Shepard, commander of the Systems Alliance frigate "_Normandy_" and Spectre of the Citadel Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. State your business in Citadel space, intruders."

* * *

_**Bridge**_

"_**Blade of Righteousness"**_

"Lord-Admiral!" Quirmire called out from his station. "Transmission coming through from the unknown vessel!"

Diomedus glanced at Xavier, who hissed, "Our guns are still ready, my lord. Shall I open fire?"

"Not yet." Diomedus responded coldly.

A veteran of nearly a century of combat, Diomedus knew that, despite Imperial propaganda proclaiming otherwise, any xenos enemy would always have a contingency in place when facing Imperial forces. A reminder of a hard lesson learned when he was still a frigate's captain; his superior, eager for glory, had rushed a fleet blindly towards an Eldar raiding force that had been attacking a hive-world. Things went sour, however, when they were set on by a splinter fleet of the enemy force that had been hiding in the planet's shadow. How the Navy personnel escaped with their lives (and less then a third of their vessels), Diomedus did not know. Intervention from the Emperor, perhaps?

He cleared the memory from his mind and focussed back on the actuality sphere. "Ensign Quirmire, route the transmission through the actuality sphere and begin vox-transmission. Let's see what we are up against."

* * *

_**Comm Room**_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

After a minute of waiting and uncertainty, the screen flickered and displayed the lead vessel's bridge. It reminded Shepard of an old Earth cathedral; the room contained several columns supporting a dome displaying an artistic impression of space. Separated along the walls and at several isolated stations were computer banks where the bridge crew sat, as well as several stations closer to the screen, crewed by beings that, to Shepard's eye, seemed to be pallid, half-dead cyborgs.

But what shocked the crew and Shepard the most was the race of beings that made up the entirety of the crew: _humans_.

Seated in the centre of the room was an aged man encased in burnished gold armour, seated on what Shepard assumed was some type of throne. He noticed the man's lack of movement, then the wires running from his head and chest.

_He is literally fused to that thing! _

Beside him stood an imposing figure, a man who appeared to be in his late 40's or early 50's. His face was chiselled with scars and his gaze was cold, his eyes seeming to betray both experience and a simmering hatred, ready to burst forth at any time. He wore a uniform that reminded Shepherd of a naval officer from some bygone era in Earth's past. The uniform consisted of a navy-blue, high collared overcoat, white inner tunic and trousers and knee high boots. The shoulders were bordered with gold cord; several gold emblems, marking rank or achievement, were born on his chest. Finally, he bore a sheathed sabre on one side and a holstered sidearm on the other.

_What manner of people are we dealing with?_

* * *

_**Bridge**_

"_**Blade of Righteousness"**_

On the _"Blade of Righteousness"_, Diomedus looked on in puzzlement, studying the crew of the alien ship intently. Clearly, this proved that they were no longer in Imperial territory. There were two humans amongst the crew, including the man who identified himself as their leader, yet there were four other species that he did not recognize as any xenos that he had fought against.

This filled him with revulsion and anger, the thought of humans cooperating with xenos was… _blasphemy_.

What seemed to complicate matters was the language the man spoke – seemly a bastardisation of Low Gothic, but it seemed twisted and distorted. Diomedus furrowed his brow in puzzlement, trying to understand what the man was saying, but could not pick up anything concrete in order to work out what the man was communicating.

"Brakket." he called across the bridge. The ship's executive officer strode over and snapped to attention.

"Can our cogitators compute a translation protocol for our vox-communication channels?"

Brakket shrugged, looking appalled. "I don't know, sir. Were it a race we are more familiar with and if we had the necessary transcripts and rites, there's a slim chance it could be done. But it's clear we know nothing about whatever language this vessel's captain is using. Not to mention the outrage such a manoeuvre could spark from our Techpriests and more …. pious members of the crew."

Diomedus nodded. "Very well. Return to your post."

As the XO returned to his station, Diomedus sighed to himself as he turned his attention back to the actuality sphere, acutely aware that the conversation had been witnessed and (probably) heard.

Straightening himself up and ignoring a withering glare from Xavier, he began to communicate over the vox in Low Gothic.

"I am Admiral Praetorus Diomedus, commander of this detachment of the Imperium of Man's Holy Fleet and I demand some details as to our location."

* * *

_**Empty Space**_

Sgt Altern knew he was dying. His breath came in ragged gasps, his lungs screaming as they began to use the last of the oxygen in his rebreather; the pain caused from the breaks in his left leg only added to the agony. He was lucky … he stole a look back at the breach in the transport's hull, at the corpses of his fellow soldiers, frozen and deprived of oxygen - some of them had been still reaching for respirator masks or trying to open the bulkhead door when they expired.

How long had he been adrift – ten minutes? Longer?

He could see the various Imperial vessels scattered throughout the immediate vicinity, all in various states of damage from superficial to catastrophic; the distant hull of the _"Bearer of His Name"_ was in ill-shape itself – apart from the rent in the hull which he had been ejected through, the sergeant could also make out other gashes in the hull, a ghastly testament to the danger that the Warp could wreak on an unprotected Imperial vessel.

Tilting his head, his eyes fell on an unusual vessel, stationary in the void– blue and white in hue, the hull sleek and elegant.

_Almost like an Eldar vessel … and yet, like nothing I have ever seen!_ the sergeant reflected as he continued to drift helpless.

A new fire began to burn within his heart; what if this vessel was responsible for his comrades' demise? Reaching to a floating section of debris, he pushed off, sending himself heading for the unknown vessel.

_Well, if I am to die here, I will ensure that these enemies of the Emperor pay for the blood on their hands!_ the sergeant raged, reaching for his hell-pistol…

* * *

_**Comm Room**_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

Shepard listened intently as the admiral was speaking. Despite the best of efforts on the part of both men, their language, however, were nigh-indecipherable to each other.

Shepard shook his head in frustration. "I … can't … understand you … sir!" he slowly articulated, trying to communicate.

The admiral stopped, frowning for a few seconds before he tried again, switching to a second language. Again, this seemed to be complete gibberish to the _Normandy_'s crew. After a minute of silence, the man indicated to someone off-screen; the viewscreen cut out shortly thereafter.

Turning away from the screen, Shepard muttered, "Well, that was interesting."

"**That** was a waste of time, Commander!" Wrex grunted indignantly, shifting in his seat.

"On the contrary, Wrex." Liara countered. "We have established who we are dealing with-"

"But, humans, Doctor T'Soni? _**Humans**_?" Garrus interjected. "What is the Council going to make of this? They'll be inundating the Alliance with questions over this if word gets out!"

Ashley stated, "Then we'll have to get the hang of their language, whatever it is, and quickly. The Council is expecting us back within the hour."

Nodding, Shepard ordered, "Tali, Garrus, I want you to scour the ship for any of the crew with an inkling in linguistics and foreign languages. I don't care if you have to drag any of them away from their stations, just get to work on that transmission."

The PA speaker crackled as Joker radioed, "Uh, Commander, we have a problem."

"And now another annoyance." Shepard muttered, pinching his nose in frustration. "What is it, Joker?"

"We've got a hitch-hiker on the external hull. Starboard side, towards the bow."

Frowning, Shepard commanded, "Bring it up on screen."

The screen, displaying the view through an external camera, showed a man, armoured, masked and clothed in a manner Shepard could not recognize from any known species in Council space. He was currently grasping part of the _Normandy_'s hull, trying to stay in place, while a spare hand went for a holster and withdrew-

_A weapon!_ Shepard realized, shortly before the man fired at the camera; the transmission summarily disintegrated into static.

"Well, that went well." Wrex chuckled.

Starting for the door and muttering a curse to himself, Shepard called back, "Williams, T'Soni, you're with me!"

* * *

_**Bridge**_

_**"**__****__Blade of Righteousness_"

Diomedus had spent the past few minutes in debate with the two Imperial generals via intra-ship holographic communication. However, that quickly broke down as the pair disagreed on their next move.

"I say we crush them, Admiral! Now, while that ship is still before our guns!"

Jungter retorted, "Out of the question, General Gerrad! For all we know, there could be an enemy fleet out there and-"

"You dare speak heresy, Lt General Jungter? Our creed, that laid down by the God-Emperor himself, demands that the xenos is to be destroyed, scoured and annihilated wherever they are found-"

"Not if we destroy ourselves in the process!" Jungter yelled.

"If you are not willing to do what must be done, I will do so myself!"

"Generals!" Diomedus barked, silencing the pair. Pacing the deck, he lectured, "Need I remind you that the reason the Imperial Army of old was divided between the Guard and Navy is to prevent a single man from commanding their combined might merely on a whim?"

He rounded on the projections as he continued, "And as long I am in command of this ship and this fleet, I will not allow blows to come between your two regiments so long as a single Guardsman is in my custody! Do I make myself clear?"

The silence seemed unbearable in the seconds that followed before Jungter muttered, "Yes, Admiral."

Gerrad nodded in acceptance; the two holograms winked out shortly after.

Noting several of the bridge crew staring, he gruffly ordered, "Return to your duties!"

* * *

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

"One thing I don't grasp, sir," Ash added to the Commander as he strode up the comm. room stairs leading to the bridge, Liara trailing behind them. "Those ships are far larger then us, so why haven't they blown us to dust already?"

"Same thing I thought, Ash. If they wanted to eliminate us, they would have done so already; they seem to have enough guns available to do the job in one stroke. Scoping us out before they commit to the attack?" The door to the bridge hissed open and the trio passed through.

As they reached the cockpit, Joker turned to Shepherd as he jibed, "'Can you three mind getting that guy off our hull? He's starting to scratch the paintwork."

The commander rolled his eyes as he went past. As they Shepherd, Liara and Williams donned their helmets and oxygen respirators, sealing their suits against the void of space. At the same time, they checked the magnetic plates on the soles of their armour; these would keep them in contact with the hull and prevent them from floating into deep space.

Shepherd radioed over the internal transmitter to his two companions. "Team, listen up. This assailant has been confirmed as armed and we believe he is extremely dangerous. However, we need him _**alive**_; non-lethal takedowns only."

"Great," Williams rolled her eyes as she readied her sidearm. "Just when I thought I no longer needed to remember Zero-G Combat 101."

Shepherd chuckled. "Ditto." A red light flashed above the airlock exit, bathing the trio in crimson light.

"Standby…"

The light turned green and the airlock opened, decompressing the area of both oxygen and gravity. The team fought to keep their footing as the remaining oxygen bled out.

"Alright, move out." Shepherd ordered once the airlock was completly decompressed.

As the trio began to stride out onto the port hull, Williams whistled over the comm., noting the group of Imperium vessels in the distance. "Those things are massive! I'm guessing between one to five or more kilometers in length. Far in excess in size of our dreadnaughts."

Liara agreed, punctuating her remark with a gesture towards the various armaments the vessels possessed. "Even the _Destiny Ascension _could not match these ships in terms of firepower. Whoever these humans are, they surely must have need of such weaponry; quite sobering to think of the foes that they would have to confront."

"Steady up team." Shepherd radioed as they drew upright at the highest point on the dorsal plane of the hull. Readying his assault rifle, he glanced over his shoulder. "Liara, any sign of him?"

Liara retrieved a scanner from an equipment pouch. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she replied. "Nothing yet Commander- Wait! One life-sign on the starboard side, towards the stern. Very weak." She pointed the direction as the team continued their advance, Ashley's hand hovering over her pistol.

* * *

_**Unknown Vessel (Hostile?)**_

_**Unknown Space**_

Knowing that he had seconds before he suffocated (or passed out, whichever came first), Richard began praying, remembering the litanies he was taught within the regiment.

_"O most high and holy Emperor,_

_I see your light and feel your presence,_

_Keep me safe from the void and vacuum,_

_And see me home to the-"_

His benedictions were interrupted when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Though he was losing his hold on his conscience, he could make out the distinctive form of three humanoids coming towards him. They wore armor unknown to him, causing an alarm to form in the pit of Richard's stomach.

_Wait, they're walking on the hull?_ Altern baulked.

A warning blared in Richard's helmet, informing him that his oxygen had run out. Snapping out of his fascination and in a final act of desperation, he raised his hell-pistol taking aim at the three. In the exact same timeframe, one of the three, a woman clad in white and red armour, whipped out a weapon and fired. Sharp pain lanced through the sergeant's wrist, forcing him to let go of the weapon and clamp a gauntlet over his bloodied wound.

_I will not let this be the end…_

As his life began to trickle away, the three … unknowns finally drew to his side. Altern could make out a man, who seemed to be the leader of the unit, confer with his two comrades. The man and the white-armoured woman lunged forward, grabbing the storm-trooper by the arms.

Richard could also make out another: a woman surrounded by a blue-white halo, stepping in front and gesturing towards him. A sensation began to press on his skull; Altern's alarm heightened as he realised what this woman was about to do.

_NO! You will not take me!_

His last act was to try and struggle in the enemy's grip…

To no avail.


	4. Chapter 3 Threat Analysis

_**A/N: **_

Welcome back, dear readers. Again, I offer a statement of penitence, but the fates have been conspiring against me as of late and I have not been able to complete this without access to a computer.

Anyways, enough chatter. Read on!

**+The Emperor Protects+**

___**Infirmary**_

* * *

_**SSV "Normandy" **_

The young man lying within the medical ward of the _Normandy_ was an enigma to Liara. Clad in dark grey fatigues and bearing formidable, yet unfamiliar, wargear and scar, he was clearly bedecked as a veteran soldier. His left leg was propped up, the damage committed to it giving several purplish-red blotches as the circulatory system fought to stop any internal bleeding; she noted that his wrist had been bandaged, a side effect from the accelerated slug that Ashley shot at him. Even from a casual glance, it was clear that this man not likely recover for a number of days.

During his retrieval, it seemed to the asari scientist he had beheld Liara with fear in his eyes; a glare of realisation or defiance at the persons he deemed to be his captors. The soldier was clearly terrified, yet she did not know for what reason.

Her musing was interrupted as the "_Normandy" _chief medical officer, Doctor Chakwas, drew alongside the bed. Priming med-gel, she urged Liara to stand back, adding, "There is no knowing how he'll act once he comes around."

Shepard, who had been waiting further back in the infirmary, armed and present with Garrus and Wrex, assured the doctor, "If he tries anything, we'll be ready, doctor. Give him the stimulant."

* * *

_**U**__**nknown Vessel (Hostile?)**_

_**Imperial Date - Unknown**_

Pain and cold simultaneously struck Altern as his eyes bolted wide open. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he quickly took in his surroundings: judging from the equipment and the relatively sterile air, he was in an unknown medical ward. An elderly woman, her uniform marking her as a medical professional of some sort, had withdrawn from his bed, clutching what looked like an empty medical dispenser.

_Must have been pumped with a chemical – a stimulant, perhaps? _That would explain Altern's heightened sense of his surroundings

His mind raced as he quickly analysed the situation. He noted three figures standing in the dimly-lit area of the infirmary: one almost avian or reptilian in appearance with a glowing eye-lens; the second more closer to a rotund reptilian (_Not unlike an Ork in some ways_, he noted.). He finally noted the third person; from Altern's brief visual examination, he was at least 40 years of age. He was blond-haired, blue-eyed and had a fair complexion, marred by a scar running from his right eyebrow towards the mouth, as if the scar was caused by someone attacking him with a blade.

His eyes focussed on the firearms that the three of them had cradled in their hand and he noted the conspicuous absence of his own arms and armour.

_Why would they be carrying weapons in a medical ward? Perhaps they intend to torture me for information?_

He glanced over to his right, only to have his heart jump into this throat. He saw a female xeno, her skin blue in tinge, skin forming "hair" towards the back of her skull, standing near the head of the examination bed. Yet, it was her eyes that caught his own; they seemed to be silvery-blue..

He suddenly remembered his final moments: drifting through the void, the figure reaching out to him.

_Her!_ His mind clicked, recognising that the woman had clearly some form of psychic talent. _They'll use her to extract information from my mind!_

Overcome by a sudden rage, he lunged off of the bed, shouting in the Low Gothic tongue at the xenos as he slammed her into the nearest wall and began to choke her. Despite the doctor punching an alarm, he ignored the wailing klaxon, his rage and anger focussed ion the blue-skinned alien he was suffocating.

"What have you done to me?" he roared, tightening his grip around the alien's larynx. "You will get nothing from me, filth!"

* * *

As the soldier attacked Liara, Garrus sprung into action, charging forwards and hammering the stock of his sniper rifle against the soldier's spine. Yelping in pain, the storm-trooper released his grip and nearly collapsed against the asari from the impact.

Despite this early blow, Altern swung a fist around, aiming to stun the turian by punching him across the mandibles. Yet, the krogan, Wrex, barged forward, sending an elbow crashing into the man's chest and barrelling him into the wall on the far side of the room. As Altern came to a stand groggily, Wrex slammed an arm across his shoulders, pinning him in place.

"You're going to have to do better then that!" the krogan battle master growled, applying further pressure in an effort to restrain the struggling storm-trooper.

Aiming his pistol at the trooper, Garrus gruffly asked, "Shepard, do I have permission to fire?"

Shepard sharply forced Garrus' aim downwards, growling, "Denied, Garrus! He tried to sabotage the _Normandy_; we'll need to find out why and he'll be no good to us dead!"

As the pair turned their attention back to the struggling trooper, Doctor Chackwas jabbed a syringe in the man's arm; Altern fell limp and unconscious seconds later.

Shepard breathed a sigh of relief as Wrex and Garrus dragged the unconscious storm-trooper back to the bed. As the doors to the infirmary hissed open and Ash and several Alliance marines came barging through with their weapons loaded, he helped Liara back up from the floor, where she had been recovering from her ordeal. By now, one of the marines had also shut off the alarm.

"Commander, what the hell just happened?" Ashley agitatedly began as she moved over to the bed where Altern was slumped; her marine compliment departed after checking that the infirmary was clear.

"Our 'friend' here attacked us. We had to subdue and sedate him again." Chakwas interjected as she began to scan the unconscious man.

"We'll keep him alive; we might gain some useful information out of him while we keep him confined on the _Normandy_." Shepard chimed in as he began to attach restraints to the man's wrists.

Signalling Ashley to help Wrex finish manacling their incumbent prisoner, Shepard headed over to Chakwas' desk. "I am assuming you were able to analyse his injuries before he woke up?"

The doctor smiled slightly as she brought up her medical logs. "Of course I have, Commander. The worst injury he had sustained was in his left leg. Both the tibia and fibea have multiple fractures, clearly a sign that the leg had been crushed."

"Can this be corrected?"

Chakwas shrugged. "A few applications of medi-gel and a day or so in the infirmary should be able to kick-start the healing process. But, given his violent disposition, I don't know whether he'll accept his situation lying down." She smiled wryly, "Literally, in this case."

Shepard muttered, "Carry on then, Doctor, In the meantime, I'll have to get in contact with the Council. No doubt, heads will be spinning about the events of the past hour."

As he started to leave, he took Liara aside and sternly ordered, "I need you to keep an eye on our guest. See that he recovers and adjusts to his environment, but don't let him leave the infirmary."

"As you order, Commander." Liara nodded.

Shepard marched out of the medical bay, clearing his mind for his report to the Council.

_**

* * *

**_

_**"Hanger 2-B**_

_**Bearer of His Name"**_

General Jungter sealed another body-bag, muttering a prayer under his breath for the departed soul. He and many of the Imperial officers and priests have been conducting the rites for the dead for over the past hour moving amidst the ranks of the corpses from both the Guard and the Navy; a grisly testament to the catastrophe the remaining personnel were lucky to have survived.

He moved to a stand, still hearing the droning of the priest's praying in the background. Despite receiving word about how many casualties his regiment had sustained earlier, it still took a moment like this for the full scale of the incident to fully sink in. Neither of the Guard regiments, nor the detachment of Storm-Troopers that had been assigned to their fleet had gone without loss; all from a phenomena which none of the officers could foresee or control.

Jungter's aide, a captain by the name of Aetos, halted a short distance away, a data-slate clutched in one hand. "Sir?"

Rounding on the Guardsman and sighing, Jungter asked wearily, "What is it, Captain? The rites for the dead cannot be completed if I am being interrupted like this."

The Sternber captain handed him the data-slate. "Final casualty tallies for our regiment, sir. Infantry, armour, all of the elements we have lost."

Nodding in thanks to Aetos, he strode out of the hanger, bracing himself as he began the walk to General Gerrad's billet.

_**

* * *

**_

_**General Gerrad's Quarters**_

_**"Bearer of His Name"**_

Activity on both the _"Bearer of His Name" _and much of the Imperial fleet was hectic. The Imperial Navy crew have done well in repairing major damage to ship systems across what was left of the fleet, though many of the vessels won't be up to their full potential for a number of days. _"Bearer of His Name"_, however, would be able to get underway within a matter of hours.

In his quarters, Gerrad brooded over the latest data-slate list, disappointment marring his features.

The Warp anomaly had not only damaged or destroyed many of the vessels in the fleet, but much of the equipment and troops that were being shipped were lost to the void as well. Over a third of his combined regiment and at least twice that amount of the Sternberg regiment had suffered casualties, as many of the troops were still aboard the two transports when the Warp anomaly hit. Also, multiple armoured tanks, artillery and heavy weapons had been lost. This will no doubt hamper both regiments' effectiveness in combat, yet the amount of both troops and vehicles, if the two regiments pooled their combined might, would pose a dire threat to any opposition.

_One might dare say that we got off lightly…_ he mused. He noted however, that the late 97th Storm-Trooper Company would disagree; out of a total detachment of 200 storm-troopers, almost 170 of them have been listed as dead, including their captain, Marcus Aureus.

_A shame. We could use men of such calibre even now._

As if on cue, Jungter entered. He strode to the desk that Gerrad was sitting behind and snapped to attention.

Gerrad barely looked up as he replied, "Yes, General?"

Jungter placed a second data-slate on the desk. "Latest report from my regiment. Casualties, remaining equipment, everything."

Gerrad picked the slate up and perused over it, reading it aloud. "62% casualty rate, 4,126 troops remaining in active, combat-ready service. 197 Lemun Russ' of various types recovered, as well as over 500 Chimeras, 79 Hellhounds and variants, 6 Sentinel squadrons and 5 artillery batteries of both Basilisks and Manticores." He glanced up, a grin forming on his face. "Excellent!"

"Thank you, General." Jungter saluted, about- turned and made for the hatch leading out.

"Wait, Jungter." Gerrad called, prompting Jungter to stop.

As Jungter returned to the desk, a mystified expression on his face, Gerrad stood. "Diomedus' Navy Analyticae has been analysing the space where our fleet is located and has gathered data on local xenos military strength. Based on what we received, the few defences they already have in place would pose little threat to us!"

Jungter stepped forward instinctively. His eyes narrowed. "What is it that you are suggesting, General?"

Gerrad clasped his fellow commander on the shoulder as he spoke feverously. "As the vanguard of the Imperium of Man, we should 'enlighten' the inhabitants of the way of the God-Emperor!"

"I still do not follow."

Gerrad's voice softened to a growl as he continued. "We may have come across a sector or a system untouched by the God-Emperor, Jungter! It is our duty as servants of Mankind that we bring the Emperor's teachings to them and bring them under the fold of the Imperium-"

Jungter retorted, clearly annoyed that the general was bringing this matter up again. "Are you suggesting that we commit our forces against the inhabitants of this system? Despite of the fact we still know _**nothing **_about their capabilities? I thought we-"

"Xenos are debased and not worthy of our mercy, General!" Gerrad interrupted "A man with your experience should have understood that already! As for those traitorous humans who consort with them, we offer them either the path to the Emperor, or the path to death!"

Gerrad strode forward until he was almost in the General's face as he spat, "I find your lack of piety highly disturbing, General! We are here to enforce the Emperor's will both within the Imperium's borders and without … and _**YOU**_ shirk from that duty?"

"I am not abandoning my duty, General!" Jungter responded, a slight tinge of nervousness clouding his reply. "I merely advise that we need to continue recouping our losses and gathering intelligence before we commit ourselves to any action. Until then, it would be suicide to attack when the enemy could potentially wipe us out in several strokes."

Gerrad returned to the data-slates. He contemplated the statistics, then he sighed, "Very well, you have made your case. Dismissed."

Before Jungter reached the door, Gerrad hissed, "General Jungter?"

As Jungter faced him once again, Gerrad threatened, "If you **ever** undermine my authority again, I will have you executed for treason."

As Jungter strode out and clanged the hatch shut behind him, he bitterly thought, _"Even though the creed I live under states that all of the void belongs to the Emperor and are to be forcefully claimed as such, I cannot commit to battle blindly in order to fulfil the ambition of Mankind, nor can I disobey a fellow commander's orders. In Imperial territory, I would do so without question. Yet this... this is different"_

"_Oh, Emperor, help me to discover Your will on this matter…"_

_

* * *

_

_**Human Systems Alliance Colony**_

_**Planet AR-275**_

_**Attican Traverse**_

**Transmission Recovered. Beginning Playback..**

**Date of Retrieval: 16-03-2183, 0415 hrs**

"_This is Patrol 2-5. We have multiple contacts heading for the northern perimeter."_

"_2-5, this is Garrison Command. Check your scanners again. We are reporting nothing within two clicks of the area."_

"_Contact! Contact!"_

"_Say again, 2-7. Over"_

"_We are being engage by unidentified enemies half a click from the perimeter!"_

"_There's too many! Fall back! Fall Back! AARRGH!"_

**Contact Lost with colony as of 0431 Local time.**

**

* * *

**

**Unidentified Transmission Detected. Analysing …**

"_Righto, 'umies, listen up good!"_

"_I'm Nob Skull-krusha and I'm da warboss of dis here clan ov mine!"_

"_I'se da one who crushed yer city 'nd me and my boyz are tearin's da rest of da buildin's down ta find da rest of the pinkskins who are hidin' 'ere"_

"_We'ez gonna hunt da rest of da 'umies down and chop dem up. 'Den we'ez go gonna nik on of der ships and we're gonna find another planet ov humies to kill. We'ez are gonna do dat until dere are no more 'umies left! Her her her!"_

"_So, come and send yer best that youz have. I'm gonna give youz a chance to give me boyz a really good fight."_

"_And ya wanna know why? Cause we're da Orks! We'ez are da sonz of Gork and Mork demselfs and we'ez were born fer two thingz: fightin' and winnin'!"_

"_WAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGH!"_

**Transmission Ends. Unable to re-establish contact.**

**Automatic distress signal dispatched to Alliance Command.**

**End Transmission.**


	5. Intermission One

_**A/N: **_In order to provide additional backstory to the crossover, I will be adding a series of "intermissions" at various intervals within the storyline. Though they may not mean much immediatly, over time, you should hopefully begin to see a bigger picture grow from these extracts as to what was actually occuring behind the scenes of this incident.

By order of the Imperium of Man's Inquisition, you are hereby commanded not to reveal the following infomation to anyone...

Not. Enjoy!

_**

* * *

**_

_**+To: +CLASSIFIED+ +**_

_**+From Inquisitor Gregor Daccius, Ordo Xenos+**_

_**+Authorisation Security Code: Omega+**_

_**+Subject: Investigation of Illius IV+**_

I sincerely hope that this transmission is sent to you via the swiftest convenience. My forgiveness at the seeming lack of communication from my area of operations, yet the results that this investigation has returned is not for the weak-minded to partake, so I rerouted this information past several Astorpathic communes before sending it to you directly in order to ensure no-one is able to track it.

As you recall, I was assigned to investigate the world of Illius IV regarding the rise of previously unknown xeno activity in that sub-sector. My initial investigations did not yield up much at first, save for the unique culture that had developed, namely the worship of a group known only as "Spectres". Who they were or their origins I am still at a loss to pinpoint. However, the world was still under the jurisdiction of the Imperium, so such anti-Imperial sentiment was held at bay.

My inquiry to the planetary Governor turned up the fact that there have been a number of rebellions against Imperial rule in the past, yet the local PDF have been able to quell them.

Such voidance of the Imperial creed amongst members of the population reeked of heresy and alien collusion, so I persisted.

My investigations reached a peak after capturing and interrogating an Administratum scribe, who revealed to me that these Spectres will lead in an upheaval against the Imperial governor, replacing the rulers with those elected from the people. With this evidence directly confronting me, I dispatched a vox-transmission for the nearest Deathwatch unit.

Two Kill-Teams heeded my transmission – one lead by Brother-Captain Fergan of the Black Templars and Librarian Serrivan of the Ultramarines. With these two units, as well as several squads requisitioned from the 97th Storm-Trooper Company, and acting with the assistance of the Illius 22nd Regiment, I proceeded to wrench the heart out of the soon-to-be born rebellion.

Resistance was fierce, the majority of the underhive population continuing to resist our efforts. Coordinating my efforts with the Illius 22nd and the local Adeptus Arbites authorites, I was able to batter my way into the centre of the rebellion and the last refuge of the rebels: the principle manufactora.

Resistance was heightened further when several other combatants added their strength to the conflict. Though some were of human appearance, there were many of which the Ordo has never catalogued or come across before. By then, several squads from the 97th had attempted entry into the manufactorum complex, but had been reported dead. Regardless, these may have been the "Spectres" referred, so I directed the Deathwatch to confront these xenos directly.

Despite the final operation being a success, I regret to inform you that Brother Captain Fergan and three other battle-brothers of the Deathwatch were killed in the ensuring melee against the "Spectres" (eliminated by an unknown force – on par with our psychic power, though nothing I have ever seen) and a number of both Storm-Troopers and Guardsmen were also confirmed as casualties in this final engagement. None the less, the information that we retrieved and the weapons and armor that we have gathered from the xenos dead will no doubt continue our cause and allow us to continue our fight against the xeno threat.

I will be forwarding an analysis of the artifacts that we recovered at the earliest convenience.

The Emperor Protects.


	6. Chapter 4 Communications

_**Comm Room**_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

In retrospect, Shepard's meeting with the Council did not go well.

The news relayed back to them about humans who have appeared _"… from unknown space…"_, bringing with them an enormous amount of firepower no less, had shaken the Council to its core. The evidence presented to them from the _Normandy_'s video feed did little to calm any nerves about the situation either. Back and forth, angered debate over the matter had raged for at least several minutes before Councillor Anderson forcefully cut in.

"Councillors, let's keep this in perspective. Before this incident, we knew nothing about this renegade faction of humanity. How were we supposed to know?"

The turian representative riposted, his mandibles quivering with restrained anger. "What we fail to understand from this report, Commander, was the possibility of how-"

Shepard, choosing his words carefully, interjected, "If I may reiterate, Councillor," he snapped "There was nothing that we knew of this group because the Alliance has no record of such a sub-faction of humanity. Not to mention their technology, at least as far as the military strength we have seen so far, seems well ahead of ours. This, again, lends credence to the evidence that these are not of a faction we are familiar with."

He perused through a data-slate, which contained an analysis from the _Normandy_'s sensor banks. "Judging from what data we have gathered, we are facing approximately twenty to thirty vessels between three to thirteen kilometres in length; all of which utilise an unknown method of propulsion, but seems to be similar to an FTL drive.

He scrolled down the pad as he continued. "While ladar scans are unable to determine exactly what armament these vessels are carrying, we believe that these vessels carry a mix of energy and projectile weaponry; the exact ammunition these weapons utilise is unknown." He glanced up as he iterated, "But their size alone should be a cause of concern."

"Finally, from what little evidence we have gathered from the transmission our vessel sent to this fleet, we hypothesise that the humans aboard comprise a militant society, though both the organisation they represent and its exact composition still eludes us."

_This is the bit of news that could send the whole situation FURBAR!_ Shepard groaned inwardly at this revelation.

He flailed for words. "Councillors, given what has been presented to us, we could be talking about a previously unknown element coming into contact with us for the first time … or it could be an invasion."

The salarian representative agitatedly took to the floor as he spoke. "Listen to what you are postulating! You are suggesting that a faction of humanity had since arrived from outside our galaxy! Is there any evidence do you have that can prove this beyond all reasonable doubt, Commander?"

"Apart from we have right now, Councillor? No, nothing except for the visual scans and vid-records we have of their fleet and commanders, as well as the survivor we-"

"Survivor, Commander?" Anderson probed, his interest peaked at this tidbit of news.

"It was mentioned in the report I dispatched before I contacted you. This soldier is still aboard the _"Normandy"_, where he'll be detained for the time being."

Shepard, sensing something was amiss, cautiously asked, "What are you suggesting?"

The asari councillor (_Tevos, I believe she's called,_ Shepard mused) added, matter-of-factly, "If these humans are what you believe, military action may be necessary. Continue to observe this soldier and see what intelligence you can gather. In the meantime, we'll place the fleet on standby readiness should these humans attack."

The ship comms crackled, Joker's voice squawking over. "_Commander, Adams and Tali have completed their work on the translation software. They will meet you in the infirmary._"

"Thanks, Joker. I am on my way." Shepard returned his attention to the Council. "My apologies, Councillors, but I am needed elsewhere at the moment. If I may be excused?"

"Very well, Commander," Councillor Tevos concluded as the FTL holo-display began to fade, "We await your debriefing when you return."

* * *

_**Infirmary**_

_**SSV Normandy**_

As he entered the med bay, Shepard noticed a cluster of figures that had gathered around Altern's bed; amongst them was Engineer Adams and Tali, who were currently fussing over a portable computer terminal.

"Status?" Shepard queried as he watched over the shoulders of the pair.

Adams glanced up at the commander. "We've been running the extract through our linguistics analysis protocol, but we've had limited success in developing a complete translation script we could use."

"Can we at least understand basic phrases?"

Tali piped up, her fingers dancing over the console's keyboard as she explained. "I believe so. Despite the _Normandy_'s computers determining that their language being used is unintelligible, after further dissemination, we believe that their language comprises of several dead Earth dialects. Or at leasts, utilises them in some capacity."

Shepard shrugged, "So why weren't the computers able to pick up on this?"

"It's because of the language syntax and structure, Commander." Tali continued. "It's likely the language they are using has developed over time to the point where we could not recognise it. We're trying to use the information we have to counter this problem, but it's all guesswork as to whether it will succeed."

Shepard turned to where the soldier lay, restraints strapped around his arms, chest and legs, as he brooded on this news.

_We need to find out what that soldier knows. At the very least, we need to know who they are and where they are from; it won't be long before his comrades start kicking down our door once they find out one of their men is missing._

Shepard strode over to the bed, noting that Liara had been sitting nearby, watching the comatose prisoner intently. "How is he, Liara?"

She glanced up. "Still the same as when you left, Commander." Her brow furrowed as she added, "Why?"

Shepard ignored the question and turned back to Adams, ordering, "Have the translation software uploaded to our ship's V.I, Adams."

Muttering under his breath, Adams tapped a few commands into the computer before reporting, "Done."

"Alright," Shepard mumbled as Chackwas injected the prisoner with a wake-up stimulant. "Let's see if this works."

* * *

The sergeant's eyes flickered open groggily. He could feel his blood pounding inside his head as the stimulant ran through his veins. He also felt constricted; glancing down, he noted that the unknowns had taken the liberty of restraining him with iron manacles and thick, leather belts. It was clear that, after his last outburst, he wasn't going anywhere.

He could hear talk amongst the leader and his companions. What struck him was that while in the past, he couldn't make out what they were saying, he could now understand them. Or rather, these heretics are rendering to him parts of what they are saying; some of the conversation was still indescribable.

"... think he's waking up.." one of them warned. Altern noted he now seemed to be speaking a broken variant of Low Gothic. He glanced over and noted hat two other personnel, an xenos wearing a veil and a visor and what looked like a human officer, were manning a nearby terminal as a textual language unknown to him scrolled onto the screen. He could also hear a voice emitting from the terminal, speaking in a language he could not recognise.

_A Machine-Spirit?_ he inwardly tensed.

It may have begun to dawn on Altern how they may be able to understand them, but he refused to believe it could feasibly have been done to begin with; for all he knew, such deciphering without the aid of trained linguists was all but improbable for translating unrecorded conversations. How did they understand Low Gothic, the common language of the Imperium? More importantly, why would they even try to understand him?

_What devilry is this?_ he thought to himself._ How am I able to understand these … these heathens?_

The pair returned to Altern as their leader spoke, his voice menacing as he quipped. "You're awake. Commander Shepard of the _Normandy_. You are are aboard my ship after we captured you trying to destroy this vessel. So answer this - why did you attempt to sabotage my ship?"

Stony silence answered. The human by the terminal motioned to his visored companion and whispered "It's working."

Shepard pressed for answers. "Who are you, soldier, and where are you from?"

Altern's training instinctively kicked in. _Reveal no information to your enemies that will compromise your regiment._

He coldly recited, "Altern, R. Sergeant. Serial number: AR276 – SST0751 – 4 - 9."

"Do you have any recollection of where you are from, or who your commanding officer is?"

"I will tell you nothing else, heretic!" Altern defiantly spat, fighting against his restraints. "If and when my fellow Guardsmen come, they will tear this ship apart and slaughter your debased kind! This I swear!"

Shepard realised that any further questioning would be a waste of time. "If that is the way you wish it, Sergeant Altern. You'll be detained until you recover from your injuries. You'll be placed under watch at all times and will be treated well until you are released."

Altern gave no response aside from a spiteful scowl as the man and several other occupants left the medical bay. He rest his head back onto the bed and tried to keep grab some rest, though he kept a wary eye on the azure female xeno watching him from the shadows.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Cargo Bay **_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

"Well, Ash, what do you have?" Shepard quipped as he stepped off of the elevator, striding towards the Gunnery Chief's workbench on the far side of the cargo bay where Ash was working.

Ash glanced up from her work; she had been analysing the prisoner's weapons. "Honestly, Commander, these are like nothing I have ever seen before."

Picking up the sidearm by the grip, Ash explained. "I haven't been able to get a good look at the interior workings of the weapon, but I can tell it is not designed to fire projectiles."

She flipped the pistol onto its back, pointing at the ports mounted where a magazine would have been placed within one of the Alliances' weapons as she continued. "The ports mounted here would have been linked to an external energy source; the pistol is designed to facilitate the charging and discharging of high levels of energy."

Shepard arched an eyebrow in intrigue. "An energy weapon?"

"I'm not exactly sure how much power is required per shot, but there appear to be a number of safeguards in place: reinforced barrel, some kind of cooling system and so on. I can damn well bet my salary that the energy output of this weapon is extensive. Heat-based perhaps."

"Anything else?" the commander frowned.

The Gunnery Chief shrugged as she placed the weapon back on the table. "Without getting a good look at its insides or seeing it being used in action for myself, I don't think I can learn any more about it."

"What about that other weapon he was carrying?" Shepard asked, indicating the sheathed sword on the bench.

The Gunnery Sergeant drew the sabre from its scabbard, admiring the craftsmanship of the blade as she replied, "Clearly not a ceremonial weapon; the blade's sharp and has clearly been well-maintained. And the _pier de resistance_ is this." She thumbed an activation switch on the weapon's grip; the blade thrummed with energy and Shepard could make out flickers of energy running across the blade.

"Impressive." Shepard murmured in approval.

"Though what society still retains close combat weapons like this for their frontline troops?" Williams questioned as she sheathed the sword and placed it back on the table.

She leant on the bench, crossing her arms and one boot as she added, "I've been talking to some of the crew regarding our newest arrivals. Many of them are unnerved from what little they already know."

"And?"

"Whatever society that prisoner of ours belongs to, it's already clear that they are not one that can be dealt with peacefully. At least, from what we have seen so far. What if they become a threat that we cannot contain?"

Shepard frowned. "What do you suggest we do? Attack them while their fleet is still stranded?"

"Sir, with all respect, when push comes to shove, I think we may have no other choice. They are clearly on the war footing. They just don't have the means to launch-

"I'll keep that in mind, Chief, but I'd like to know exactly what we are going up against first. And that prisoner could have vital infomation that could help us"

The PA system crackled as Navigator Pressley announced, _"Commander Shepard, report to the CIC immediately."_

"Duty calls." Shepard shrugged to the Gunnery Chief. "Keep at it; let me know if you learn anything more from his equipment."

"Got it, skipper." Ash replied as Shepard headed back to the elevator.

_**

* * *

**_

_**CIC**_

_**SSV Normandy**_

"Report, X.O." Shepard quipped the moment he stepped onto the bridge.

Turning from the bank of terminals surrounding the command pulpit, Pressly added, "We have an incoming transmission for you from Alliance Fifth Fleet Command. Admiral Hackett's waiting on you, sir."

"Very good." Shepard muttered as he ascended the command station and punched a few commands into the galaxy map's control panel.

Opening a communications channel, he greeted, "Admiral Hackett, sir."

"_Normandy_, this is Fifth Fleet Command." Admiral Hackett's voice drawled back over the comm. channel. "We have an emergency within the Attican Traverse that we need to bring to your attention."

"Never a dull moment for a Spectre, sir." Shepard snorted. "What can we do for you?"

"There is an Alliance military base and a colony that had been established on the planet designated AR-275. Communications with both of them had fallen silent about an hour ago."

"Communications problems?" Sheoard arched an eyebrow- a pointless gesture, given circumstance.

"No. An automatic distress signal was sent from the planet which contained a recording of the moments leading up to the loss of contact. We heard gunfire and screaming; the colony has fallen under attack."

"Do we have any idea who was behind these attacks, sir?"

"None; there was no sign of any suspicious traffic within the planetary sector over the past two months and we have little data on who or what these attackers are – they took the garrison completely by surprise. However, we have just received a transmission from an unidentified group claiming responsibility for the attack. Intelligence is still deciphering it."

"What about survivors?"

"The base had a garrison of around 100 Marines from the 527th; the colony, around 2,000 settlers. I wouldn't expect many to be still alive."

"There is one other matter." Hackett amended. "We have also been in contact with Councillor Anderson, who has informed us of the situation brewing in the Serpent Nebula. Something about a damaged alien fleet."

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'alien', sir," Shepard clarified "But they are a foreign element."

"No matter what they are, Command suspects that the timing of these two events is not coincidence."

"I can't merely accuse these new arrivals of anything. Last we checked, no landing craft had left their fleet, so it can't have been them."

"Even so, we need proof beyond reasonable doubt that they did not engineer this attack. We are uploading a copy of the transmission records to your ship. If you learn anything from these arrivals about what is occurring, you are to proceed to AR-275 and assess the situation."

"The Council was expecting a report on the current-"

" I've already briefed Councillors Tevos and Anderson; they will be expecting you the moment you return to the Citadel. I won't keep you any longer, Commander. Fifth Fleet out."

"_Normandy_, out." Shepard replied, closing the channel.

Keying the ship's comm. link to the bridge, he ordered (in an annoyed tone), "Joker, get us back to the Citadel. I have an appointment with bureaucracy."

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks for those who have kept up with this story and left feedback. I have been recently busy with university and did not have much time to complete this rewritten chapter.**

**On another note, I have a sinking I might be denounced as "heretic" for the simplicity as to how the Normandy crew could now understand Low Gothic (to an extent.). While this was a bit of a barrier to begin with, I felt that ultimatly, it would be a minor issue within the plot if it was left unresolved. My main issue to be resolved will be tensions between the two factions and, while language differences could have enhanced that situation further, it also could bog the pacing down if left unchecked.**

**Hopefully, the next chapter will deal with the beurocrats' reaction to recent events and hopefully a bit more of an insight into the Imperium's perspective. Also, this could see the revelation of the colony attack. Who knows - the Guard may soon be on the warpath!**

**+In nomine Imperator!+**


	7. Chapter 5 Extraction

_**A/N:**_ Real life had taken quite a bit of a toll, as far as my fictional writing is concerned, but, after a year-long absence, I am back.

With that in mind, future updates will likely be on a "as soon as completed" basis, as not only would the chapter need to be written, but I am consistently planning and checking my writing and subject matter in order to ensure that the whole story "fits" within the context that the two universes represent and that the story itself is fairly enjoyable.

Anyways, as per usual, feel free to leave a review including any constructive feedback that could be useful for this work. Enjoy!

* * *

_**Bridge**_

"_**Bearer of His Name"**_

_**1237 hrs Citadel Time **_

_**Approx. two and a half hours since the Warp incursion...**_

"Absolutely not!" Gerrad roared at Jungter and the assembled holograms before him in the _"Bearer of His Name's"_ strategium. The silent Jungter across the pictdesk strove to avoid flinching as he and other senior officers from the 85th and 497th stared back at the projections of Admiral Diomedus and Captain Xavier, as well as the captains of the _"Divinitus Imperium"_, _"Emperor's Wrath"_ and a number of other key personnel or advisors; the robed presence of Naval Magos Omnuris (aboard the Mechanicus transport _"Ommisiah Virtrix"_), Senior Navigator Aripides of the _"Blade of Righteousness" _and Naval Arch-Confessor Davidicus made their presences felt within the meeting, despite not contributing thus far.

"A single Imperial bio-spoor had been tracked aboard their vessel-" Diomedus begun, furrowing his brow, only for the grating voice of the Magos' vox-grille to cut in.

"The same craft which our sensor augurs had indicated departing the area 24 minutes ago." The Magos' twin bionic eyes whirred from under his hood as he turned to Diomedus. "By now, this missing soldier would have been either terminated or taken into custody."

"We don't know that!" Jungter blurted out. "If he is being interrogated and compromises critical information, we'll be at a disadvantage!"

The elderly Davidicus bit his bottom lip as he added, "Our men would die before yielding intelligence to the foe. Their duty and honour to the Emperor and the Imperium would prohibit them from such a cowardly act."

"Even so, could we take that chance?" Jungter interrupted Davidicus' talking, only for Gerrad to round on him sharply.

"When your opinion is wanted, General, we'll ask!" he barked.

"Enough!" Diomedus bellowed. "Our forces are damaged enough without the two of you constantly bickering! Focus!" Calming himself, the Admiral continued. "We have other matters of concern. Astropath?"

The wiry Aripides, his third eye covered by an off-white cloth wrapped around his head and his wiry hands wringing, explained, "Whatever has happened to our fleet has cut off our Astropaths and Navigators from the Astronomican. We have managed to assemble a clique from those who could be spared and who had survived the ensuing madness, but, even though we have ensured all vessels have at least one Astropath to guide them, without the Emperor's Light, the fleet is currently unable to enter and exit the Warp."

"So, we are stranded." _"Divinitus'"_ captain said grimly as, with a gloved hand, he adjusted his collar. "Trapped."

Diomedus pursed his lips in thought for a few seconds before he suggested, "Maybe not, Captain. Aripides, you are aware of the formation of psychic battle choirs?"

The Astropath nodded as Diomedus, carefully phrasing his question, asked, "Could we apply a similar theory to any other psyker we can spare? Those who are powerful enough to be 'heard' in the Warp if we grouped them all together aboard one vessel?"

Aripides 's face betrayed shock as he realised what the Master of the Fleet was proposing. "No! The risks are far too great! Even if our charges are able to survive the ordeal-"

Diomedus tried to placate him. "I'm not asking you to maintain this state permanently. Once we map the area of space we are stranded in, we will be able to navigate via an alternate method – cogitated 'blind' jumps, perhaps?"

The captain of the _"Emperor's Wrath", _catching on the idea,shook his head andobjected. "Even if we are able to improvise a psychic beacon, Lord-Admiral, it might not be powerful enough to reach out through the chaos of the Empyrium to the Astropaths who remain aboard."

"And if we do, we are at risk of encroachment from the Ruinous Powers!" the Senior Astropath wailed, gripping the collar of his hood tightly.

Diomedus shrugged, glancing about in helplessness. "Given the fleet's vulnerability and the lack of ability for us to navigate without a psychic reference point, I don't see any other option open to us. Either we take this risk and we _**might**_ be able to get under way, or we can remain stranded and, in all likelihood, cut off and destroyed."

Despite calming himself somewhat, Aripides muttered in resignation, "If you are committed to this course, may the Emperor and light of the Imperium watch over us."

"I understand the risk and sacrifice you are making, Aripides. Thank you." Diomedus replied as the psyker's projection disappeared completely. "Magos?"

Magos Omnuris stepped forward, his image flickering and distorted for a few seconds before resolving itself. "My Techpriests and I have been analysing the exchange between our fleet and the unidentified vessel. It had taken some time, but I believe we can develop a vox-protocol to understand their basic language syntax. At maximum processing power, we will be able to fully implement this vox-protocol across all of our frequencies within 23.471 standard hours."

"And repairs to the fleet?" Diomedus queried.

A crackle of noise reminiscent of an annoyed sigh escaped Omnuris' vox-grille. "While we have been able to render the _"Bearer of His Name"_, _"Blade of Righteousness"_ and at least four other vessels operable within acceptable limitations, complete fleet capability will still not be fully realised. We estimate that three days of consistent repair work are required in order to fully return the fleet to-" His voice grille again betrayed his frustration as he spat, "_**Optimum**_ status."

Diomedus, banging a fist on the pictdesk, growled, "We may not have that long! By that time, we could have an entire xenos fleet on top of us; you and the other tech-priests would have to work quickly."

The Magos made the sign of the cog and bowed as his image winked out.

"What about their prisoner?" Gerrad questioned, idly fiddling with one of the gauntlets on his arms.

Nodding, Diomedus turned to Xavier, who had been listening in from his command throne the whole time, and ordered, "Captain, establish a vox-link to the vessel we had encountered on all transmission bands. It's time we voiced our demands."

* * *

_**Citadel Presidium – Systems Alliance Embassy**_

_**1247 hrs**_

The return trip to the Citadel was fairly uneventful for the _Normandy_, though the Commander had to quickly explain to Alliance traffic control the circumstances behind the frigate's overdue return. The traffic control officer was puzzled, but waved the frigate through to the station.

Ten to fifteen minutes of traversing the Citadel later, Shepard and Gunnery Chief Williams were standing in the Alliance embassy before Councillors Anderson and Tevos, as well as two officers from the Alliance – Captain Elizabeth Halsteen, commander of the cruiser SSV _Melbourne_ (the temporary flagship of the Alliance Navy Citadel garrison) and Commander Nero, Turian military advisor for the fleet. Once introductions were made and everyone was seated, Shepard cleared his throat and began the briefing.

"Within the last several hours, there has been some major activity within the sector." Punctuating his remark, a holoprojector rose from the top of the desk that dominated the room and activated, displaying a representation of the space the _Normandy_ had been patrolling earlier.

"At approximately 1010 hrs, Citadel time, SSV _Normandy_ had reported signs of an unknown spacial anomaly that had formed within the Serpent Nebula. Shortly after, contact was made with an unidentified fleet, presumably transported here by the anomaly we encountered."

He went on, explaining the initial findings the _Normandy_ found – the tear in space comprised of unknown energy and the damaged and destroyed vessels that had been listing aimlessly through the void; Shepard keyed a few commands into the projector control panel embedded into the desk. The projection flickered and changed as it displayed a side-on schematic of an Alliance dreadnought. The projection zoomed out as the dreadnought's image shrunk in scale, a second schematic of one of the unidentified vessels overlaying the first – twice the size of the dreadnought. "According to our scans, that is the size of their smallest vessel."

A worried glance passed between the two military officers and Shepard could hear Anderson and Tevos confer amongst themselves. After a small pause, Tevos spoke, "Your report mentioned that their flagship communicated with the _Normandy_, Commander?"

Shepard nodded. "Correct, Councillor. Unfortunately, that is where we ran into new complications." Punctuating the remark, he brought up a recording of the first transmission between the _Normandy_ and the other fleet; the transmission, now rendered roughly into the common tongue, played out before the viewers. The two councillors remained grimly stoic as they looked on.

"Unbelievable!" Halsteen muttered to herself as she stared at the projection. Her turian compatriot said nothing but contented himself with perusing a report, his eyes flicking between the datapad and the recording from time to time.

As the transmission ended, Shepard stated bluntly to the two military officials, "There are no Alliance records of this "Imperium of Man", nor are their vessels recognised by our tactical computers. Their vessel design is vastly different from our own and, given their militant stance, we could be dealing with an incursion from parts unknown. On the other hand, they have displayed no immediate hostilities due to damage their fleet has sustained."

Ashley, looking briefly at the Commander for approval, added,"I have examined the weapons we have recovered from the soldier we have extracted. From what I have been able to find, the technology utilised is clearly alien – no 'eezo'-based technology was found in either weapon, nor was there any signs of technology or construction methodology that the Alliance or Citadel space possesses. As for larger weapon systems, I think we can only speculate."

After what seemed as a brief moment of awkward silence passed, Nero spoke, glancing up from his report. "C-Sec had reported that they will be unable to maintain a state of alert indefinitely, Councillors. With the information the Commander has provided us, I recommend our garrison fleet takes over security of local space for the immediate emergency and that we call in re-enforcements."

"But the Arcturus fleet is still recovering from the attack from the Geth." Halsteen countered. "Much of the Alliance contingent had to return to Arcturus Station and other shipyards for repairs, leaving us dangerously undermanned. And if these "Imperials", as you have called them, Commander, attack the Citadel or another nearby system, we will be unprepared to face them on even terms." The Alliance captain leaned on the desk with one arm as she snorted, " Though if the data presented to us is accurate, "even terms" is hardly the case."

"_Normandy to Commander Shepard, come in." _one of the comm. panels embedded into the desk chirped.

Placed momentarily on the back foot by this intrusion, Shepard activated the panel and snapped, "Go ahead, _Normandy_."

"_That flagship is hailing us again. The transmission's a bit fragmented, but you and the others will want to hear this; they're not happy."_

Councillor Anderson interjected, "Understood, _Normandy_. Patch it through to the Alliance Embassy, audio only."

Several seconds of static crackled over the transmission bandwidth before resolving itself momentarily. During the static-punctuated transmission, the voice that spoke was stern, verging on anger.

" _'Blade of '… Holding … prisoner …. We demand his immediate release … Fired upon without mercy … Await your response."_

* * *

_**Infirmary**_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

Altern's eyes slowly opened. He knew that he was still in the medical bay of the _Normandy_, having been placed under sedation earlier, as well as the now suspicious absence of the restraints that had been keeping him in place. Slight pain ached in his almost healed leg where minute fractures were still being mended, yet he knew that such pain will pass in time.

"You're awake at last." He snapped his head over to the speaker, noting the doctor within the room; she was currently typing a report at her desk near the beds.

Sitting up, careful to avoid bumping his leg, the sergeant moaned, "How long was I put out for?"

"For at least a half hour. The medi-gel we have applied to your tibea should almost have finished mending your leg, but-"

"Medi- what? Is that some kind of medicinal?" the sergeant asked, noting that the now-installed (but still buggy) ship-wide translation program was allowing the two to communicate in a somewhat common dialect.

"Of sorts, yes." Chakwas brushed off the interruption, cautioning, "However, I wouldn't recommend you walk on that leg for at least another few hours. Too much pressure and the bone marrow would fracture again."

"I see." Figuring there was little else he could do, the sergeant laid back on the bed and tried to get some rest.

His thoughts drifted momentarily, back to one of the many conflicts he was involved in. One that came up trumps was the battle for the Chaos-infested Hive Teloc on Cestus VII. He shuddered, remembering the harrowing fight towards the corrupted hive's power centre, the desperate fight to protect the accompanying combat engineers as they rigged the powerful generators of the hive to explode. Worst of all was the fight out of the city, his fellow squad members and his allies in the Guard and Adeptus Astartes being flayed alive by Warp-fire and daemonic weapons. He remembered the screams; cries of agony, helplessness, horror, the faces of his fellows contorted in shock and desperation even as they were being slaughtered where they stood.

_How I even walked out of that hell-fire without losing my sanity_, he shivered to himself,_ I'll never know._

His nightmares were interrupted as he noted a familiar presence who had been sitting at his side, her eyes passing from the monitors above the sergeant's head back to him. Sighing in frustration, Altern closed his eyes, trying to ignore her. "How long have you been watching me?"

"For the past half hour." Liara replied, crossing her arms and letting one leg dangle idly over the other.

"Why?" he croaked; his throat was beginning to dry up.

Retrieving a glass of purified water from a nearby dispenser, Liara sat on the edge of the bed and offered the glass to the sergeant's lips. "Because the Commander needs you alive - ."

"I have no information that will be of use to you." Altern lied, jerking his head away roughly.

"And," Liara finished, placing the glass to one side. "I am curious about you."

Reluctantly, Altern changed his mind and accepted the water, downing it in a few gulps. As he set the glass down, he arrogantly retorted, "What alien would be curious about me? I've killed hundreds of xenos across multiple sectors; why would you be any different to them?"

"Because you are different to us." Liara replied sternly. "We have never seen you - your people, rather- before."

"The Imperium of Man stretches across the stars." Altern's voice wavered slightly, confusion beginning to show on his face. "How come you have never heard of us?"

Liara gave no answer. Resigned to the silence, Altern laid his head back on the pillow and tried to clear his head.

_You are confiding with xenos, Sergeant Altern, _his mind reminded him. _Avoid fraternisation._

_None the less, she is unlike any xenos that the Imperium has encountered. Talking to one of them will not cause much harm if it is for the right purpose -_

_Hold, Sergeant. Set your mind straight!_

A few moments passed before he craned his neck back over the bed's edge and noted that Liara had not budged from her seat. A soft-spoken question emerged from the alien's lips. "Will you at least tell me your name?"

Considering this question for a few seconds, Altern answered half-heartedly, "Richard Altern. Sergeant. 97th Storm Trooper Company." He paused before adding, "And you?"

"Liara. Liara T'Soni." A small smile crept on the asari's lips."That wasn't so hard now, wasn't it?"

_Oh, you have no idea. _Altern thought to himself.

Before the conversation between them could proceed any further, however, the entrance of the infirmary hissed open. A couple of xenos that Altern recognised stepped through - the avian-like alien with the eyepiece who almost shot him during his last tryst in the sick bay assisted the second alien ("Wrex", if Altern recalled correctly) as they helped their captive to his feet. Liara, in the meanwhile, got out of the way and returned to the medical storage room.

"Get up!" Wrex grunted. "The XO wants you on your feet and your ship's commander is getting antsy."

"My … my ship?" Altern stammered in disbelief. A rising, insane resolve possessed him; he broke from his retainers and, ignoring Chakwas' warning, rushed rapidly towards the bridge.

"Hey! Get back here!" his pursuers bellowed after him, but the sergeant, with pain shooting through his legs as he charged up the staircase three steps at a time, ignored them.

He wouldn't get any further. Running through the doorway and entering the _Normandy's_ CIC, one of the now-alerted guards tackled the Sergeant, pinning him against a wall as Altern protested, demanding to be released.

Snapping up from the command consoles, Pressley rounded on their most recent arrival as Garrus and Wrex burst onto the deck. "How in the hell did you get here?" the XO railed at the sergeant before turning to the two aliens. "Vakarian, Wrex, take this man back to the infirmary and ensure he stays there!"

As the turian and krogan secured the storm-trooper and began to drag him away, Altern overheard a Low Gothic voice over the ship's communicator._ "Repeat: this is the "Blade of Righteousness". You are holding one of our men as a prisoner. We demand his immediate release or you will be fired on without mercy. We await your response."_

"Listen to me!" Altern struggled against his alien retainers. "That ship will destroy you if they do not hear from me! I can call the fleet off! Just let me use the vox and allow me to talk to the flagship!"

Pressley gestured for the pair to stop before striding up to Altern. "Even if you were released, how can we expect you to not order those ships to fire on us?"

"Would I be insane enough call down fire down on myself?" Altern replied, wide-eyed as his desperation at being so close to a way off of the ship increased.

The silence that pervaded the next minute could have been cut with a knife as the XO stood back and mulled things over; he eventually relented. "Fine, do it. You have two minutes."

Mindful of the pistol that Garrus had now drawn and pressed against his spine, as well as the click-clack of a shotgun being readied, Altern allowed himself to be let go and, ensuring he was not about to be shot, walked over to a console the XO was beckoning him to. The Navigator punched a command into the terminal, before nodding to Altern.

""_Blade"_ - _"Blade of Righteousness"_ ," he began, feeling somewhat silly at talking to what appeared to be thin air as opposed to a vox-transmitter's vox-horn. "This is Sergeant Richard Altern of the 97th Storm-Trooper Company. Is anyone receiving this transmission?"

There were several seconds of pause, though the Sergeant could hear excited babbling in the background, before the officer returned to the microphone. _"Authorisation code?"_

Racking his brains to remember his personal watch-code, Altern responded, "Authorisation: Aquila 1594-7."

"_By the Throne! Lord-Admiral! Someone has responded – confirmed as Imperium!"_

There was silence over the vox-channel for a few seconds before, with a click of the vox, Diomedus' voice filtered in._"Who is this?"_

"Storm Trooper Sergeant Richard Altern, sir. I was being held prisoner aboard the xenos ship."

"_I am aware of the situation, Sergeant. I've been having General Gerrad pushing that we send in an assault team to extract you for the past quarter of an hour."_

Pressley cut Altern's waiting reply off as he questioned, "This is the executive officer of the _Normandy_. Who am I speaking to?"

"_This is Admiral Diomedus, commanding the battleship "Blade of Righteousness" and in overall command of this battle-fleet. You have one of our men aboard and I intend to retrieve him."_

"That's not a call I can make, Admiral." Pressley bit his lower lip for a few seconds before continuing, "I'll have to relay this to the commander and get his answer back to you."

Just as the transmission to the Imperial flagship was terminated, Shepard's voice cut in. _"No need, Pressley, Joker has been keeping this channel open since the beginning and we have heard every transmission going to and from the ship. The Council has authorised a prisoner transfer; have our 'guest' readied for departure."_

"Yes, sir."

"_We will be returning to the Normandy within twenty minutes; I need to speak with the prisoner the moment we return. Contact the Imperial ship's commander and inform that we are willing to conduct an exchange."_

"Understood, Commander. _Normandy _out."

Ceasing transmission, the XO activated the ship's PA system and ordered, "Flight Lieutenant Moreau, as soon as the Commander and Gunnery Chief are aboard, take us out from the Citadel and proceed back to the Imperial fleet." He pointed to the Sergeant as he gruffly ordered, "And you, return to the medical bay and stay there until the Commander returns."

Not wanting to risk another incident, Altern nodded glumly and, with a marine restraining him, he returned to the infirmary.

* * *

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

_**1316 hrs**_

The Commander hardly felt the shift in internal gravity as the _Normandy _departed the Citadel's docking bay. Hearing the accompanying click of Williams' steel-shod boots behind him, he gave a passing nod to his XO as he strode through the CIC and arrived at the staircase.

"Where is the prisoner?" he asked the guard at the door.

"Infirmary, sir."

Shepard nodded, keying the door open and the pair descended to the deck below. Arriving at the infirmary door, Shepard paused momentarily to straighten himself out and, with a nod to Ashely, they stepped inside. Right where he had been confined over the past hours, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap, Altern glanced up at the Commander and Gunnery Chief as they drew near.

"I hear you have been kicking up a hornet's nest aboard my ship," Shepard began, crossing his arms as if he was a rebuking parent . "Though my XO also says you stopped your fleet from firing on us. Right now, I'm deciding between either returning you to your friends alive or throwing you out of the airlock so they can recover your corpse."

He recovered a data-slate from a pocket, explaining, "But that's not the reason I am here. On this datapad, I have a recording from one of our outlying colonies that has recently come under attack. Listen to this carefully, then I need you to tell me if you recognise anything from it."

The Commander activated the recording and set it down on Chakwas' desk. Almost immediately, a guttural sounding voice emitted from the slate, taunting the listener with its broken Low Gothic. Altern's eyes widened in recognition partway through, urging, "Stop. Stop the playback!"

Quickly stopping the recording, Shepard raised an eyebrow. "You know who they are?"

The storm-trooper nodded grimly. "Yes." He got up and faced the Commander square-on. "That was an Ork."

"Ork?" Ashley queried in puzzlement. "Never heard of them."

Fumbling for an explanation, due to the commonality of Orks within and without the majority of known space, Altern glanced over to the Gunnery Chief and explained, "They are a barbaric race of humanoid xenos. Adaptive, possessing a beast-like cunning, tough as hell and with only one agenda – to wage war."

"Did you bring them here?" Shepard pressed.

"No." the sergeant retorted. "The Orks and the Imperium of Man have been in conflict for millennia – there is no love lost, especially when the foe we face is little more then a pest, an infestation to be stamped out before they overrun the galaxy."

_And yet, how can the people of this sector know so little about the Ork menace? _the storm-trooper inwardly fumed to himself.

He went on, increasing urgency adding to his inflection."Commander, if what I heard from that vox-message is correct, you need to get to that colony and wipe the Orks out! If they get off planet or entrench themselves within a system, they will multiply rapidly until no-one can contain them!"

Shepard was sceptical, replying, "And if we can't?"

"Then pray, Commander. For the Orks have no concept of mercy."

* * *

**_Shark Assault Boat 0471_**

_**Emperor-class battleship "Divinitus Imperium"**_

_**1336 hrs**_

Within the bowels of one of the multitude of launch tubes along the _"Divinitus'"_ starboard flank, Naval Sergeant-at-Arms Bartholomew straightened out part of his bronzed armour as he stopped near a side hatch leading into the interior of a Shark Attack Boat. Seven of his brethren awaited, all of them clad in an eclectic mix of tunics and armour plating. What bound them all together as a unit, however, were the faceless, helmeted respirators they wore strapped around their head and waist and the symbol emblazoned on each shoulder and chest – the sigil of the Imperial Navy's Armsmen.

Acknowledging a few minute nods he received from his squad, Bartholomew led them up the ramp and clambered into the passenger compartment of the assault craft. He could hear the massive booster engines beginning to power up and was dimly aware of vox-chatter through his helmet between the Shark's pilots and the liaison for the _"Divinitus'"_ strike craft.

"_This is Shark 0471 to Launch Control. Final systems checks are completed and launch catapults have been readied."_

"_Acknowledged, 0471. Firing launch tube in 15 seconds. May the God-Emperor guide you."_

_**+E.T.L. – 12 SECONDS+ **_an automated voice (presumably a servitor, Bartholomew deduced) warned in the armsman's earpiece.

The armsmen inside the Shark who weren't in restraining harnesses stored their weapons and quickly strap themselves in. Bartholomew prayed to himself that the void would not claim the assault boat or his men as he buckled the last harness strap into place.

_**+E.T.L. IN 3 … 2 …. 1+**_

Without internal buffers to compensate for the sudden acceleration, the interior of the Shark began to rattle about as the craft was literally shot out of the launch tube. Bartholomew found it difficult to keep his bearings for the initial twenty seconds following the launch; his helmet was banging about against the bulkhead as he squeezed his eyes shut in order to avoid blacking out.

Twenty-five seconds after launch, he felt the Shark steady itself out and he breathed a sigh of relief and thanks to the Ommnissiah that the assault boat remained intact. Quickly glancing about to see that his squad was okay, he unbuckled his harness and reached for his autogun.

"Listen up." he stated, his voice somewhat distorted by the visor and oxygen mask he wore."Our orders are to assist in securing a Storm-Trooper that a crew of xenos have captured. We have been able to obtain the man's release, but both Lord-Admiral Diomedus and General Gerrad have expressed concern that the xenos will not hold up their end of the bargain."

He gestured to the autoguns and shotguns now in his men's hands. "Hence why we are going in armed. If this is a trap, we will force entry aboard the ship, recover the hostage, plant melta bombs within the vessel's reactor then we fall back and destroy the vessel."

"_Pilot to Sergeant Bartholomew,"_the sergeant's earpiece crackled. _"We are 1,500 meters out from the target vessel. Stand by for docking procedure._"

"Acknowledged." Bartholomew replied. He strode to the forward part of the passenger compartment as his men loaded their weapons. "We'll be avoiding the use of melta-charges for this breach, so the moment that airlock opens, move in as quickly as you can."

_**+DOCKING CLAMPS ENGAGED. PRESSURISING...+**_

Bartholomew could hear the Shark's docking clamps clanging against the other vessel and he felt a slight tremor in the deck below him as he brought his weapon up to a ready stance. "Standby."

_**+AIRLOCK PRESSURISED. CYCLING AIRLOCK+**_

As the last of the oxygen was pressurised aboard the "_Normandy"_ and the assault hatch grated open rapidly, Bartholomew and the armsmen leapt out. "Advance by sections! Spread out!"

* * *

_**Inner Airlock / Command Deck**_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

The Commander had to admit to himself, as he and the disarmed prisoner returned to the CIC twenty minutes after the revelation in the medical bay, that the Imperium sure seemed punctual in their arrival. What he didn't quite expect, however, was a 50 meter long assault boat speeding headlong towards their ship. It took a frantic explanation from Altern, followed by confirmation by the XO and the Imperium battleship's commander, to convince Shepard to keep the _"Normandy"_ stationary and not to order emergency manoeuvres. Just in case, however, Ash had assembled an armed security detail from the _"Normandy's"_ Marine compliment, armed and ready in case events turned sour.

Between them and the Commander, the armoured figure of Altern stood in stony silence. In his hands, he was clutching the data-slate containing the recording Shepard had shown him earlier – it seemed that the human, whatever the differences where between them, had decided to pass this information along. Wether it was to gain answers or whether the Commander genuinely believed that the newest arrivals to this sector could assist, Altern was still at a loss.

As the frigate's inner airlock hissed open,. the boarding armsmen burst from their craft and charged into the _Normandy_'s interior, each of them lining up four abreast as they covered both directions within the corridor leading to the CIC. Ashley and her security detail snapped their rifles up and took aim at the boarding party, attempting to deter any hostilities.

"Hold your fire!" Shepard bellowed, ensuring both his men and the arrivals understood this command clearly; he was not intending on a shoot-out occurring aboard his vessel.

One of the visored soldiers, his voice muffled and his gauntlets tightened around the firearm he brandished, demanded, "The sergeant?"

"As agreed." the Commander consented cordially. Turning to Altern, he gestured to the boarding party. "You may go."

Altern took a few tentative steps forward, wary in case any of the armsmen may choose this chance to "panic" and begin shooting. When this fear dissipated and not one trigger-finger twitched, he increased his stride, crossing over to the hatchway leading into the assault boat before turning back to his former captors.

"My weapons?" he asked - the crew of the ship had been retaining his belongings a short distance away from him while he had been waiting for extraction.

Shepard nodded to Ashley and soon, Altern found himself catching his sabre and his hell-pistol. Without another word, he disappeared into the the prow of the assault boat, the masked and armoured Navy troopers back-pedalling slowly behind him with weapons trained on the _Normandy_'s crew until they were out of sight of each other.

"What happened in there, Sergeant?" Bartholomew asked Altern as they felt the now-sealed craft release itself from the frigate and began to reverse its course to head back back to the battleship.

"It doesn't matter, Armsman. I need to see our commanders." Altern replied, showing the dataslate he had been given to the armsman. "Immediately!"

* * *

_**Stratagium**_

"_**Blade of Righteousness"**_

_**1410 hrs**_

" … _We'ze da sons of Gork and Mork demselfs! And we'ez were born fer two thingz: fightin' and winnin' ! WAAA-"_

Diomedus stopped the recording immediately as he paced before the holograms of Gerrad, Jungter and the captains of _"Bearer of His Name"_, the cruiser _"General Crassus"_, two frigates of Escort Squadron Crimson 17 and the Adeptus Mechanicus crewed transport _"Omnissiah Virtrix"_. The recovered Altern stood off to one side on board the "_Bearer"_, listening in.

"Well, there it is." Diomedus solemnly stated. "We now have a recognisable threat that I believe that only we can halt. Opinions?"

Gerrad folded his arms and glared at the projections he was seeing aboard the transport. "I say let the remaining humans on that planet rot, Admiral. They are not our concern unless their 'infestation' obtains orbital transportation."

Jungter added his own appraisal. "As much as we may think the Orks to be little more then barbarians and primitive scum, sirs, they have shown technical and tactical ingenuity in the past. And, if what their leader says is true, if they are not contained, they will continue to rampage unchecked."

"Breeding an army as they go." Gerrad noted with a souring look on his face. "Then, after a long period of time and infighting, a WAARGH."

"Precisely, sir." Jungter agreed, his bionic hand twitching momentarily.

"What of the psykers and the beacon we are improvising?" "_General Crassius'_"captain asked.

The Techpriest who was attending the briefing consulted a data-slate as he replied through his vox-grille, "Initial statistics and simulations show promise, however, we cannot guarantee that it will be entirely successful during its first test. Likelihood of failure: 27.17%."

Diomedus perused a data-slate as he stated to Gerrad, "General, the flotilla we have cobbled together should be ready to move within the hour. Once the psychic beacon is activated and provided there are no unexpected delays, we should be able to be able to utilise our Warp engines and go where we please."

"If it all goes according to plan." one of the frigate captains noted glumly.

"Perhaps we have an opportunity presented to us to show these xenos what we can do." Gerrad proposed, his eyes lighting up with restrained eagerness.

"What are you suggesting exactly, Lord-General?".

"I think it is time we demonstrated the capabilities of the Imperial Guard and Navy, Admiral. As senior commander of Imperial forces in this sector and as General Militant, I am ordering the fleet to set course for that colony." Gerrad turned to Jungter, sternly ordering, "Lt General Jungter, prepare your regiment!"

As the two generals ended the transmission on their end, Diomedus turned to those who were still present. "To war it is, then." he muttered, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming deployment. "Good luck, gentlemen, and may the God-Emperor watch over us all."


	8. Chapter 6 Battle for AR275 Part I

_**A/N:** _Well, here it is, the opening phase of the Battle for AR-275.

I must apoligise for the wait for those who have been urging me to update this, but I must stress that I generally write on a schedule-less basis; "when it is completed" is, unfortunately, the only solace I can provide right now. I am usually reworking old material that I had created before and this usually includes changes to the original plot and further research on 40K canon (usually going back to 2nd or 3rd Edition knowledge, if I have to), as well as providing new scenes to expand on the narrative.

Well, with that out of the way, let's get this deployment underway, shall we? Any feedback that could be applied would be much appreciated. Thank you and enjoy.

* * *

_**Bridge**_

"_**Blade of Righteousness"**_

_**Date - 15th March, 2183**_

_**Time – 1645 hrs (Coordinated Universal)**_

It had been two hours since Diomedus had met with the other senior officers of the fleet and regiments. In the meantime, the ships that had been selected to be dispatched to the human colony had been moving into position, while several Techpriests from the _"Omnissiah Virtrix"_ had been transferred to one of the other two transports of the fleet, _"Cradle of Cadia"_. They had been busy converting the transport's cogitator banks of the primary and secondary Navigator stations to create the machinery necessary to transmit and maintain the planned psychic beacon; the psykers that were to form the beacon's choir had also been transferred and briefed.

Moving away from his observation of the battleship's servitors, the Admiral began to pace back towards the ship's command throne as he glanced at a dataslate. According to the Techpriests' reports, initial testing had shown that the improvised beacon could indeed work – to a limited range of several sectors. However, in a vexed transmission shortly before the first test, they had voiced their objections to the breaking down of valuable machinery in order to cobble together a device that, according to their dogma, would greatly anger the machine-spirits of both the cogitator banks and the transport. Who or what convinced them to follow through with this project, however, eluded Diomedus.

On one hand, the Admiral would have agreed with them – much of the technology that the Imperium functioned on were practically relics - devices, ships and weapons from an older era and for which many of the technical blueprints and readouts were lost to time, destroyed in the various conflicts that have broken out in the Imperium's history, or were jealously guarded by the Cult Mechanicus themselves. With this in mind, the Imperium could not afford to lose any of the more powerful weaponry they still had functioning, particularly if either these were giving humanity the edge they needed or that which cannot be reproduced easily.

However, at the same time, Diomedus found himself chaffing under the Mechanicus' apparent lack of fortitude towards improvisation. The fact of the matter was simple: with no idea where they were, no link to the Astronomican back on Holy Terra and with no assurances of the presence of any assistance, this beacon was urgently needed. Without it, as one of his subordinates had pointed out, the fleet would be going absolutely nowhere and their striking capability would be rendered null and void.

_I'm sure the Guardsmen we have accompanying us might actually get some enjoyment out from the upcoming battle, _Diomedus reflected as he neared the captain's throne. _After all we have been through so far, the last thing we need is to have a mass riot breaking out. _

"Lord-Admiral?" Xavier glanced up, a cluster of data-slates held in front of him by the throne's servo-arms. As the Admiral approached, one of the mechanical arms whirred and handed a data-slate to Diomedus; it was a top-down view of the galaxy, with the time-stamp indicating that this had been transmitted less then an hour ago from the ship identified as the _"Normandy"_.

"This had been transmitted by the commander of the alien ship." Xavier began anxiously. "We've tried to corroborate with him, per your instructions, in order to gain the coordinates for this colony of theirs, but..."

Xavier paused briefly as Diomedus took the dataslate and the mechanical arm retracted. Glancing at the slate, Diomedus' face soon turned to a worried frown as he glanced at the map's contents.

The fleet's original destination, Cadia, was nowhere to be marked on the map and the Eye of Terror was non-existent. With his mental alarm bells ringing, Diomedus glanced over at the actuality sphere for a comparison and he scrolled the dataslate to what would have constituted Ultima Segmentum – the space occupied by the Ultramarines Chapter, including Macragge and Calth was also not marked on the slate. Segmentum Pacificus – no sign of any of the worlds claimed by Lord Solar Macharius or the contested Sabbat Worlds. And the less said about what was "missing" from what would have constituted Segmentums Tempestus and Obscurus, the better.

No Astronomican, a here-to unknown sector of space populated by beings we have never encountered before and nearly nothing about these maps match!

A bead of sweat poured down Diomedus' forehead as a number of horrifying and contradicting conclusions began to emerge. Did these aliens and this offshoot of humanity merely designate known planets and sectors within the Imperium by other names? Or, absurd and almost impossible as it sounded, where they no longer within known space as all of the evidence up to now seemed to indicate?

He had heard rumours about the effects that the Empyrean had on vessels during Warp travel – much like an ocean or stream, the Warp had currents, eddies and tides that vessels had to navigate and overcome before transitioning to real-space. At worst, the Warp was unstable, prone to trapping, altering or destroying vessels within its grip. There have even been accounts of fleets being dispatched to various war-fronts, only to arrive years or decades too late or thrown violently off course by many sectors of space.

Was this what happened to them when they began their journey? Had the anomaly they encountered somehow thrown the fleet out both their native space and time? Was this even possible, even with what little is publicly understood about the ever-changing nature of the Warp?

"What do we do, Admiral?" Xavier asked, his eyes betraying worry as he looked his commanding officer in the eye.

_I cannot withhold this information from the other senior personnel,_ the Admiral brooded, glancing between the actuality sphere and the data-slate in worry. _I could be marked for treason and, in all likelihood, I'll be shot as a traitor. But with tensions already rising __within the senior commanders of the two regiments, releasing this information might eventually result in more infighting. Not to mention the pandemonium and violence that would inevitably result if the 11,000 or more Guardsmen we are transporting panic. _

Yes, it would be both treason and, by omission, disinformation. And yet ...

_Emperor, forgive me for what I am about to do. _The Admiral folded his arms and bowed his head, stating to Xavier, "We proceed on course, Captain. Initiate Code Magneta procedure."

Nodding, Xavier replied solemnly, "Yes, Lord Admiral." He rotated his throne, facing back towards the bow of the ship as, unknown to him, Diomedus walked towards the exit hatch from the bridge. "Helmsmen, correct heading to station keeping zero-five-one and power Warp engines in preparation for jump. Sound Magneta alert."

* * *

"_**Bearer of His Name"**_

_"Code Magenta procedure in progress. All personnel, stand by for Warp jump. Code Magenta…"_

Altern's boots clunked against the deck plating as he picked his way past scrambling Navy crewmen and the few Guardsmen who had been authorised outside of their billets. The recent revelation of the stratagium briefing renewed him with hope and, dare he say it, elation for the upcoming battle. A chance for him and his comrades to fight again, face-to face with one of the myriad of foes the Imperium had faced.

Orks. A warlike, barbaric species, devoted only to conflict and conquest. A species rightly revolted by the Imperium, a race incapable of aspiring above conflict … a species to be utterly purged.

_It was not the foe I had been expecting to fight,_ Altern thought as he made the final turn in the hallway before heading towards an elevator. _But a Storm-Trooper has to expect the unexpected._

Before the drab, steel-grey elevator doors, the sergeant noted General Jungter and a commissar in deep discussion with each other. Both men turned as the veteran approached.

"Sergeant Altern." Jungter acknowledged, while the scarred commissar merely nodded.

"General Jungter, Lord Commissar." Altern replied in kind, then noted the data-slate clutched in Jungter's hand. None of the three men said a word to each other for a few seconds.

"It almost seems as if you have been waiting for me, sirs." Altern commented awkwardly, shuffling his balance between both boots. "What is this about?"

"You, Sergeant." the Commissar Lord added with brevity. Altern's brow furrowed, clearly not understanding what the political officer meant.

"With most of your company dead and with too few personnel left in order to reconstitute a new Storm Trooper company, both myself and Lord Commissar Horst from the 497th have decided to assign the remaining troopers under Commissariat command." the Lord Commissar explained, taking the data-slate from Jungter's bionic hand.

_Ah, this must be Regiment Commissar Kliest! _Altern thought, now recognising the name of his new retainer.

"With the upcoming mission being your first combat operation since we have arrived within this sector, I have requested your unit to be directly involved; your men and a second Storm-Trooper squad will be operating alongside personnel from the xenos ship you were captured on."

Despite the revulsion that crept up Altern's spine, the sergeant shook the feeling of dread off and drew himself straight as he questioned, "What are my orders, General Jungter?"

Jungter referred to the data-slate. "You are to assist this commander, "Shepard", for the duration of operations on the planet we are travelling to. Give him the same deference you gave Captain Aureus and all will be well."

"General," Kliest interjected, " If our sergeant here is going to be involved in a combined operation with these outsiders, we could use this opportunity to gain a tactical advantage – find out their strengths and weaknesses, what makes them tick."

Jungter glared at Kliest as he muttered, "That's not our immediate priority, Commissar; stopping the Orks should be our main focus." His expression softened as he added, "You do have a point, though - the information we can gain about each other could allow us to gain invaluable intelligence regarding their capabilities. But right now, I'd prefer if we can avoid antagonising anyone … at least, for now."

Altern inquired, as if to remind the men that he was still present, "What of General Gerrad? Does he give his approval for this operation? Shouldn't he be informed?"

The general's vehement adherence to the Imperial Creed was well known amongst the fleet. Before the Illius IV operation, on General Gerrad's orders, both regiments were forced to watch as eight soldiers, a clique originating from both regiments, were flogged for desertion, the skin of their backs flayed to the muscle. The unfortunates were then ejected into space, a grisly warning to any who would think of flouting the Emperor's Law again.

Jungter's face changed to bear a mask of concern. "If possible, no. This temporary transfer is not for his eyes; if discovered, there is no knowing as how he will react. " He lowered his voice, cutting Kliest off from listening in. "I am not sure of this, but I fear Gerrad may become our undoing if we are not careful."

"We are loyal servants of the Emperor-" Altern refuted.

Jungter held a gauntlet up and interjected, "True, but rushing in guns blazing without any assessment of what we might be up against is foolish. I will not allow my men to be at the whim of an overly-pious general if we are being sent to our deaths."

Altern objected again. "Respectfully, sir, he _**is**_ the senior commander of the force."

"Maybe, Sergeant, but right now, you, your men and my regiment are _**my**_ responsibility. And I will not commit my regiment so openly and completely to any combat action until I am absolutely certain that there is a reasonable chance of success. We still have a Chaos invasion to stymie, after all."

As Jungter retreated and awaited the sergeant's reply, Altern took the data-slate and studied it. After a minute, he looked up, a new resolve in his eyes.

"When do I begin?"

* * *

_**Bridge**_

"_**Blade of Righteousness"**_

_**1655 hrs (Coordinated Universal)**_

By now, the bridge of the _"Blade of Righteousness"_ was abuzz with activity as the bridge staff scurried about, attending to their assigned tasks. Outside, the huge, trireme-like hulls of the rest of the fleet adjusted their approach vectors in preparation for the upcoming Warp jump; the mite-like _"Normandy"_, however, was hanging back away from the fleet. Why, Diomedus wasn't sure. Perhaps they have their own means of moving from sector to sector, he reasoned, but decided not to pursue this inquiry further.

Communications Officer Ensign Quermire, however, interrupted his train of thought as the junior staff officer approached the Admiral and snapped to attention. "Sir, the _"Normandy"_ has signalled us. Message reads..." The Ensign squinted at the read-out on a data-slate's display screen as he read aloud, "_"Normandy" has confirmed ready status and will be en route directly to AR-275. Will rendezvous in planetary orbit upon arrival."_ "

Diomedus nodded; everything was now in place. "Very well, Ensign. Carry on."

As the Ensign saluted and returned to his station, Diomedus returned to the raised platform of the command throne; Captain Xavier, data-slate in one servo-arm, glanced up at the Admiral.

"Admiral Diomedus." the aged captain acknowledged, the chest-mounted voice-emitter distorting his voice.

"What is the status of our ship?" Diomedus asked, placing his hands behind his back as he glared down at the captain. "Is she ready and capable for Warp travel?"

"All stations have been secured and what repairs we have been able to conduct have been completed. Some of our lance batteries are still non-operational, but we have been able to salvage a few from our transports; we'll just have to protect them better from now on in."

"And our main armament?"

"Unfortunately, some of our broadside guns are still out of action, Admiral. More repairs on those guns will be carried out en route, but if we go into action ..."

Diomedus held up a hand to stop the captain. "I understand, captain. Proceed when ready."

Xavier nodded. "Very well, sir." As Diomedus moved to flank the command throne, Xavier keyed a button on the arm-rest of his throne and transmitted, "This is Fleet Command to all attack vessels, report status."

A series of replies crackled back over the intra-ship vox channel.

"_Battleship "Emperor's Wrath" reporting ready for Warp jump."_

""_General Crassus" reports ready."_

"_Escort Squadron Crimson One-Seven, frigates "Intruder" and "Vigilant" standing by."_

""_Bearer of His Name", all personnel and cargo secured for travel."_

"_This is the "Cradle of Cadia". The psychic beacon has been activated and Gellar Fields have been raised. God-Emperor, protect us all."_

Satisfied that all of the force elements under his command were sufficiently prepared, Xaviar transmitted, "This is Captain Xaviar of the _"Blade of Righteousness"_ to all attack element commands: stand by for Warp jump on my signal." He glanced at a chronometer and counted down. "Three. Two. One. Mark."

On his mark, the familiar tear of the Immaterium tore into existence like a sudden maelstrom and the Imperial vessels, grabbed by tendrils of Warp ether, were yanked inside, bound for the unknown.

* * *

_**C.I.C.**_

_**SSV "Normandy"**_

A considerable distance away from the fleet, but still close enough to visually witness the Imperial ships' departure (not that this would have been any difficult, due to their sheer size), Commander Shepard looked impassively out of the forward view port and watched the violet maw of the Warp pull the massive vessels in, then vanish in an eye-blink.

He heard the pilot's seat creak slightly as Joker turned to him, asking, "What now, Commander?"

Shepard's eye-lids were beginning to feel heavy – he hadn't slept well for the past three days. Running a hand through his blond hair before turning back to his pilot, Shepard ordered wearily, "Commence relay jump to the Attican Traverse, then proceed to AR-275 at best speed and heading."

The clearly fatigued commander began to move away from the cockpit, clomping down the hallway of the Normandy's 'neck'. Suppressing a yawn as he passed through the CIC, he stated to the Navigator, "X.O., you have the command deck."

The veteran second-in-command nodded to the Commander. "Aye, sir. I'll have the Normandy's VI wake you if you are needed."

Shepard nodded in thanks as he reached one of the doors leading down to the lower deck. "Much appreciated. Carry on." Walking through the open hatchway, Shepard walked down the steps and crossed towards the CO's quarters on the crew deck. He was out like a light minutes later.

* * *

_**16th March, 2183**_

_**0637 hrs (Coordinated Universal time)**_

_**Strategium**_

_**"Blade of Righteousness"**_

_**In orbit above Systems Alliance Colony AR-275**_

_**Attican Traverse**_

The 3-D topography map blazed before the scrutinising eyes that were examining it; both generals, Sergeant Altern, Admiral Diomedus and a holographic projection of Commander Shepard (who was listening in on the briefing from the comm. room of his ship) were standing around the map as the other Imperial command staff aboard the battleship went about their tasks. Displayed was a sensor-auger feed from the humans' military, the so-called "Systems Alliance", with geographical data on the arid planet that this fleet now has locked in its cross-hairs. The rambling voice of Diomedus cast itself against the soft background noises of whirring cogitator banks, hushed commands to personnel and the chanting of the attending Tech-priests monitoring the ship that already pervading this room.

"… With the data from the scans we have received of the planet, as well as the information forwarded by Commander Shepherd, we can conclude that heavy regiment operations within this colony will be impossible. The mountain ranges and cliff-faces that border it to the North and West are too steep to scale, while the planet-wide deserts and the colony's layout severely restricts heavy vehicular movement."

"And there goes our best strength against the Orks." Jungter mused, his arms crossed in a gesture of disappointment. Though the Guard boasted limitless numbers, a regiment's infantry, isolated and using its own resources, is almost useless operating on its own unless reinforcements could arrive.

_And for all we know, there are no such reserves._ the Sterrnberg general reflected bitterly. _We are on our own._

Gerrad spoke next, glancing at his subordinate general as he suggested, "What about lighter vehicles? Could Sentinels and perhaps Chimeras and Hellhounds be sufficient armour support?"

Working the map's data-feed and examining the terrain more closely for about a half-minute, Jungter nodded and concluded, "It is possible."

Shepard added, "The Alliance 527th had a mechanised section of M35 IFVs – it can be assumed that light vehicles could handle the terrain with little problem."

He cursed to himself, _So would our our own M35 if it wasn't a complete write-off from throwing it through a mini-mass relay._

Altern questioned, "Then what is our plan of battle, General?"

Gerrad pointed to what appeared to be a large spaceport based within the colony as he continued, "If our two regiments can combine our infantry and hold this location, we can have a formidable infantry force to drive the Orks. As for our armour, we can improvise with our Sentinel squadrons." He turned to Gerrad, expecting his assessment.

Jungter nodded. "Agreed; the 497th Infantry Regiment and 85th Mechanised can deploy two infantry companies and a heavy weapons company within the spaceport to form the anvil against the Orks, denying them ships and parts for off-world access." He gestured to a holographic representation of a sizable Ork encampment several kilometres away to the South-East of the colony. "Meanwhile, we will use what Sentinels we can to scythe through their rear, cutting them off from their advance and annihilate the Ork's main base of operations on this planet. A mechanised infantry section from the 85th will provide support."

Shepard came closer to the actuality sphere, his features cast in the glow as he examined the map. He frowned and gestured to what appeared to be a military facility on the far side of the mountain range. "It appears that a major splinter of the Ork advance is veering towards here." He looked up, turning to Gerrad as he probed, "What do Orks generally obtain during raids? What resources do they aim to obtain?"

"They retrieve only what equipment they need to wage war." Gerrad replied immediately. "It could be said that the Orks know nothing else but war."

Shepard examined the layout of the military base closely. Like the colony itself, the surface of the base bore the typical hallmarks of pre-fabricated housing, with many of the surface buildings designed to be easily erected and taken apart by settlers until (or, rather, _unless_) permanent buildings, such as the colony's water collection tanks, could be built. What drew his attention, however, was where the scan was hazy at where the base extended underneath the surface, the scans having been unable to penetrate the crust of the planet. Underground would be where the majority of the facility was located.

Shepard's eyes widened, however, when he noted what appeared to be a series of large silo doors. There would only be one reason why such doors would be there and it might have explained what the Orks were after.

"You said that the Orks are after weapons, General Gerrad?" Shepard addressed the Gorgian general coldly. "I think they have found them." The Commander gestured to the silo doors, explaining, "That military base is housing thirty Javelin missiles, designed to be fired from the surface of the planet to eliminate any surface attacks."

That bit of news got Jungter's attention, who glanced over at Shepard. "What are those missiles' capabilities Commander Shepard?"

"A single Javelin would have enough explosive power to gut a major city; you can easily gauge how deadly a volley of them would be." He turned to the assembly. "I will take a unit from the _Normandy_ and secure the base. If those weapons have been found, then the Orks must not be allowed to claim them."

Altern nodded. "With your approval, sirs, I recommend we attach two Storm-Trooper squads to provide additional security in case the Orks reach that facility first." He consulted a data-roster, the list of remaining Storm-Troopers left among the force. "I would like to volunteer my squad and I would also recommend Sergeant Verrik. He and his unit fought the Ork before; he was part of the final assault on Warboss Ztar-krashers stronghold on Charon IV during the attempted Imperial Guard reclamation effort there."

Shepard glared at Altern as he stated bluntly, "Too many men would arouse suspicion of these Orks. I'd be better off if my team went in alone."

Altern shook his head. "And if the Orks have managed to reach the military base first, you'll be slaughtered on the spot! Our men might be able to give you that extra strength in numbers."

Pacing briefly for a few seconds, Shepard eventually replied, "Fine, Sergeant. We'll do it your way. I'll assemble a team for the drop, but I'll need transportation down to the surface."

"That can be arranged, Commander." the Admiral replied. "I'll arrange for an Arvus to transport you and your team over to the _"Bearer of His Name"_. The drop will commence from there once once our infiltration team has prepared."

Nodding, Shepard punched a button off-camera and his projection fizzled and winked out.

"If there are no other questions," Gerrad concluded, with the meeting seeming to be over. "General Jungter, deploy what men you see fit to the surface; I'll do the same. Admiral Diomedus, I want whatever Valkyries and troop transports you can spare fuelled and readied within the hour."

Before the Admiral could reply, Gerrad had spun on his heel and marched out of the strategium. Jungter, noting the Generals absence, shrugged and commented, "I guess this meeting's adjourned, then."

Diomedus nodded. "Very well, Lieutenant General. You're dismissed." As Jungter began to leave, Diomedus added, "And … good luck."

Jungter nodded to Diomedus in thanks. "The Emperor protects, Admiral."

* * *

_**Hanger**_

"_**Bearer of His Name"**_

The return trip to the transport was short and quick. Sergeant Altern barely managed to register the passage of time that had passed since he had went aboard the Admiral's flagship nearly a half hour ago; he was still amazed that they had been able to jump into the Warp so successfully to begin with. As he disembarked from the Arvus Lighter, he glanced around the transport's primary hanger as he made his way towards the elevator.

Among the various aircraft that were being readied within the carnivorous space were a number of modified Valkyries – from Altern's brief visual assessment of these camouflaged aircraft, they all bore reinforced hatch and canopy frames, modified and sealed turbofan engines (no doubt adapted for a space-to-surface drop – next to impossible to be carried out unmodified) and twin tanks mounted underneath each craft's wing roots – oxygen tanks for pressurising the aircraft, perhaps?

"Sergeant!"

Halted in his tracks, he turned back towards the centre of the hanger as a familiar armoured figure approached. Altern felt a grin tug at his face as Corporal Gallentus greeted him by taking hold of his forearm – what would have passed as a handshake for the NCO. The sergeant reciprocated the gesture, relieved to see her again.

"Good to see you back aboard, sir." the brunette second in command added warmly. "With most of the company dead, we were worried that you had been killed."

"You weren't informed of the situation?" Altern queried, puzzled by this lack of confirmation by his superiors.

Gallentus shrugged, releasing her superior. "Operational vox silence. With everything that was going on, we went into lock-down until we were certain it was safe to resume standard operating procedure."

Altern nodded as, with his 2IC following, he headed to the trio of infantry that were standing by the ramp of one of the Valkyries. Performing a quick headcount, his spirits plummeted; only four of the initial ten man squad had survived whatever catastrophe had befallen the fleet. The sombre faces of Trooper Varius, squad vox-specialist and Cadian-born, Trooper Isolde (a Mordian veteran, judging from the Iron Eagle pinned to her lapel and her bionic right arm) and Trooper Dieter (a gruff, yet pious Kriegan) greeted Altern once he arrived – they were already fully kitted and ready for the upcoming assault, but not in the right frame of mind after learning of their fellows' demise.

_Horson, Darius, Malerna and Enock are dead, then._ Altern reflected mournfully. He couldn't imagine the horrible fate that, by the divine grace of the God-Emperor or through sheer luck, he managed to narrowly avoid out there in the darkness of the void; it didn't lessen the pain of their loss, though.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as a klaxon began to sound within the hanger. Through the void shield and the retracting hanger doors, the sergeant could see a second Arvus enter the hanger, slowing down as much as possible before drifting down onto the deck with a clanking of metal. As the engines began to wind down, the canopy opened and the pilot stepped out, muttering a string of curses in Low Gothic.

Striding towards the Arvus until he was facing its starboard flank, Altern could see why – there were a series of gashes running along the starboard wing. He wasn't sure if the Arvus had multi-vector wings, but it seemed that, even if they were retracted, they didn't help.

"Bit of a tight fit, Lieutenant?" the Sergeant overheard one of the crew chiefs guffaw to the pilot as repair crews began to examine the craft.

"Frack you!" came the retort as the pilot stormed off, clearly in no joking mood.

From the same direction that the pilot was striding, a clique of about ten storm-troopers, clad in the distinctive armour and uniform of the 97th, marched towards Altern and his squad. Unlike Altern's depleted unit, this squad were bearing the newly-issued, semi-automatic hotshot lasguns and two of the troopers were equipped with a flame-thrower and a melta for anti-tank attacks.

"Sergeant Verrik?" Altern inquired to the leader of the group as these new troopers approached Altern's squad.

The auburn-haired Verrik nodded. "Aye." Glancing past the Sergeant to the passengers disembarking from the Arvus, he added with barely disguised contempt, "And I'm guessing those are the "others" we have been assigned to work with?"

Altern shrugged as he muttered back, "I don't like it either, Sergeant, but we have our orders."

Verrik and his group brushed past Altern as the sergeant replied, "Remind me to lodge a protest, then."

Both NCOs approached the passengers of the Arvus, who had now disembarked, and Altern could almost feel the other storm-troopers tense up as a black and grey-armoured Commander Shepard and five of the members of his crew approached. He was about to interject before anyone did something stupid, but the Commander held up a gauntlet to the fifteen Imperials, signalling them to wait. A small, glove-shaped hologram winked to life on Shepard's left arm and tapped several of the device's keys. It winked out several moments later and the Commander cleared his throat.

"There, we should be able to understand each other from now on in." Shepard added. Altern noted the shock that dawned on Verrik and others; they could not believe that a human and his xeno followers had knowledge of Low Gothic, let alone how to speak it!

Before any questions could be raised or introductions made, a siren began to sound and Altern heard two of the Valkyries begin to power up.

"It's time, Sergeant." Verrik added as he slipped on his helmet. "My men will embark on Delta 62. Your squad and the "others" are assigned Alpha 37. We're launching once you are all aboard."

Nodding, Altern beckoned to Shepard and the others to follow him as the eleven men and women charged towards their assigned Valkyrie. Over the clatter of boots hammering against the boarding ramp, he could still hear Verrik barking out orders to his men as the roar of turbofan engines began to fill the air.

* * *

_**Fifteen minutes later….**_

_**Valkyrie Alpha-37**_

_**0741 hrs (Coordinated Universal)**_

_**En route to LZ Alpha 01**_

_**Alliance Colony AR-275**_

The frigid air of the planet's higher atmosphere howled as two Valkyries roared above the surface like steel-bodied hawks, lancing through the driving sand being whipped up from the ground by a passing sandstorm. Strapped in the interior of Alpha-37 were Altern, his squad and the crew that Shepard selected to assist him in this mission. No one said a word as the hull of the gunship shook from the wind outside.

The introductions had been brief. The team comprised, as far as the storm-troopers had been able to understand, Garrus Vakarian, one of the Commander's best marksman and a former security officer, Urdnot Wrex, a reptilian-like xenos designated as a "krogan" and, from his brief account, a military leader amongst his kind, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, Shepard's right hand woman and a Marine (though clearly not like the formidable Adeptus Astartes that Altern had seen striding the battlefield) and Tali'Zorah, a member of a species the Sergeant couldn't pronounce and an excellent engineer. Altern also warily spied the azure-toned form of Liara alongside them and he averted his eyes, not wishing to converse with her.

A minute passed in silence before the port and starboard hatches slid back, sending sand whipping into the faces of the gunship's door-gunners as they quickly donned eye protection, spat out sand from their mouths and swung out the heavy bolters. The second Valkyrie, Delta-62, swooped by the aircraft's flank, 62's port hatch hatch slid back to reveal the second squad readying for landing. Through the hatch, Shepard could see them arming themselves and donning respirator masks as Sergeant Verrik, spying the Commander, sent off a quick salute as A-37 roared past.

"45 seconds to LZ. Looks like heavy sandstorm activity; adjusting for cross-winds." the pilot's voice crackled on the vox.

_No fracking kidding!_ Altern cursed to himself as the aircraft continued to rattle.

With almost mechanical methodicalness, Altern's squad began loading their weapons. Corporal Gallentus brandished and primed her plasma gun, the weapon's volatile power cells hissing and whining as they began to power up.

"30 seconds." the PA voxed.

As respirators were being donned, Trooper Dieter removed an Aquila that hung from his neck, clutched it in an armoured gauntlet and began to pray aloud, "_To be unclean…"_

Recognising the Catechism of Hatred, the rest of the squad responded, intoning, _"That is the mark of the xenos."_ This drew confused glares from the Normandy crew, who did not expect a display of bigotry.

Ignoring them, Altern continued, _"To be impure…"_

_"That is the mark of the xenos."_

_"To be abhorred…"_

_"That is the mark of the xenos."_

_"To be reviled…."_

_"That is the mark of the xenos."_

"10 seconds." the pilot reported. The Valkyrie suddenly changed its pitch, thrusters screaming as the transport began its drop to the ground.

The storm-troopers' prayer took on a more angered tone, the men steeling themselves for the battle ahead, and their voices rose as Altern shouted over the din of the wind and engines.

_"To be hunted!"_

_"That is the fate of the xenos!"_

_"To be purged!"_

_"That is the fate of the xenos!"_

The Valkyrie's landing gear crunched against the surface and the rear ramp clanged down. Altern stood by the hatch, preparing to send his men off of the Valkyrie. In one hand, his power sword was unsheathed and crackling with energy and in the other, he carried his hell-pistol, which he punched in the air as he bellowed, "_To be cleansed!"_

His squad stood up from their seats as one as they roared, _**"That is the fate of all xenos!"**_

_"Move! Move! Move!"_ Altern yelled, urging everyone out of the gunship and waving them forward.

As the sandstorm howled past the rear exit, both squads hammered down the ramp, the storm-troopers forming a defensive cordon as they disembarked, their eyes vigilant through the whirling sand for enemies. Shepard's unit charged out after them, some of them instinctively shielding their visored eyes from the blasting sand granules. Further away, Altern saw Verrik's Valkyrie landing alongside their transport and the second squad rushing out to form up with the first.

As both Valkyries lifted off, with no immediate threat in sight and both storm-trooper units reporting the all clear, all three units slowly began to advance through the airborne dust and grit, ready for whatever lurked down below.

* * *

_**Captured Military Base**_

_**A few kilometres away**_

Shepard's objective – the Alliance military base that lay on the outskirts of the colony – was a charnel house. Bodies of Alliance Marines, part of the garrison that had been taken by surprise by a sudden assault from an unknown enemy, were strewn throughout the underground hallways and bulkheads, through which Orks and their smaller Grettchin offshoots prowled on patrol, squabbled over "shiney bitz" (the arms and armour of the dead), resulting in the odd riot or two breaking out in the immediate vicinity or, as a few of them have been tasked, set about the dangerous payload that sat within the underground silos.

For this tribe of greenskins, this was their way of war – nay, their way of life. The Ork mind seemed to become intoxicated when plunged into the maelstrom of violence – it was what weeded out the weak among their number, what their deity Gork (or Mork) compelled his fellow Orks to strive for and gave their society purpose and function. Now, with this outpost of humanity that they were, at present, tackling, the possibilities for themselves and the misfortunes due to be imparted on any who got in their way now seemed boundless.

It was into this chaos that a messenger, one of the more junior boyz of the clan, now charged into. He barged past other Orks and trod Gretchin underfoot, ignoring everything and everyone around him except for one Ork in mind.

"Boss! Boss! Eh, Boss!" the boy called out as he burst into what once was the base's primary command and control center. Standing near one of the observation ports, looking down at the salvage effort on the Javelin missiles below, was a huge, stocky Ork. He bore a combination of crudely-beaten metal plating and cannibalised armour taken from the dead, which he had only just now finished adorning himself with. In one hand, he lazily held a two-handed axe, its haft nearly as thick as his forearm and, within the reflection from the glass, the Ork's brow was furrowed in what would have passed as frustration – more accurately expressed as, in human terms, "You better have a good reason for this, or I'm going to cave in your skull."

The burly Zkull-Krusha rounded on the younger Ork, nostrils flaring. "Wot in Zog's name are ya doin' 'ere?!"

The other Ork cringed, not willing to be on the receiving end of his superior's ire. He stammered, "Erm, eh boss, Zappa's boyz are killin' any humie dey see, but sum of da Gretchinz come runnin', sayin' dat some flyin' fings are comin'!"

The Nob bristled in restrained anger; it seemed that more humans were on the way to take their city back. "Den wot's you standin' around for, ya grot?! Shut yar yap and get da boyz ready! Whilz ya at it, tell de ovver boyz in dat humie city to hurry up and clear da rest ov da humies out!"

As the runt of an Ork hurried away to rally his comrades, Zkull-Krusha bellowed at the top of his voice in his guttural language to any Ork within earshot, "Lizen up, ya sodz! I'z want ev'ry boy who can krack sum skullz to get ready! We'ez got odda humies commin' and I don't wanna be stuck on dis zoggin rok any longer! So, git dose rokkits out fast and git dem to da oddas at da humie city!. Den, we'ez only got one fing ta do … "

The Nob inhaled deeply before letting out with an ear-shattering yell, _"WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!_"

The resounding noise of Ork throats straining in the midst of their guttural war-cry resounded throughout the underground as, high above them, Valkyries, Sky Talons and heavy troop transports descended towards the surface, carrying with them the men and munitions of the Imperium.

The Imperial Guard were going to war ...


	9. Ch7 Battle for AR275 Pt II Into Darkness

**_Alliance Colony World AR-275_**

**_100 meters from the Alliance Military Compound_**

**_32 minutes since landing ..._**

Sand. If there was one planetary element that Shepard despised, it was sand. The granules are everywhere, getting into armour joints, into your eyes and mouth if you did not wear any head protection. Most of all, the sand reminded the commander of Virmire … and the terrible decision he had been forced to make there.

Shaking the thought off, Shepard shielded his visor with his gauntlet, trying to see through the storm that raged around his squad as the 15 Imperial Storm-Troopers they were accompanying faded in and out of the swirling sand around them. If there was any sign of their passing, it was in their disappearing shoe prints in the sand and the targeting beams from their helmets that lanced out in front as they slowly tracked their weapons to the fore of their advance.

Unable to exactly keep track of every member of his team through the swirling sand, the commander radioed over the squad's comms., "Shepard to ground team. Status?"

_"Visibility's down to near zero and my HUD's scrambled, Commander." _Williams reported over a static-punctuated signal to Shepard's helmet.

_"Same here, Shepard."_ Garrus radioed; _"I can barely keep up with the Imperials in the middle of the damn storm!"_

Similar replies from the rest of the squad filtered back from Liara, Wrex and Tali. In the latter case, Shepard was momentarily alarmed to hear a series of coughs over the radio, but the visored alien eventually cleared her throat and reported that she was fine – a stray sand granule had bypassed her external respirator filtration unit.

_If we can't get inside, we're going to have a lot more problems then a few stray grains of sand. _Shepard reflected as he sloughed through a bank of sand that had been blown over the toes of his boots.

A few further minutes of struggling through the sandstorm eventually came to an end as Sergeant Altern, who had been moving ahead with the other Imperials, threw up his right arm and a balled fist; a command to halt. Everyone clustered in a rough huddle and took a knee within the driving sand as Altern grabbed Shepard's shoulder and released the pins holding his respirator in place on his mask.

"How much further to the base?" Altern yelled, trying to make himself heard over the now-howling wind.

Unable to hear him, Shepard bellowed back, "What?!"

Shuffling closer to the commander, Altern articulated, "How. Far. Are we. Away. From the base!?"

A shuffling of sand beside them and a curt cough from Ashley answered the sergeant's shouted inquiry; the Gunnery Chief was glancing down at her omni-tool, barely making out a map of the planet's surface that rapidly flickered in and out of static – it was evident that the dust storm was interfering with whatever ladar scans Ashley was receiving from orbit.

_"One of the base's secondary entrances should be right over the next dune."_ she added through her helmet's respirator, slapping her omni-tool as if the force of her gauntlet would, if at all, be able to stabilise the degenerating data-feed she was trying to receive. _"The garrison normally use these to move patrols in and out of the facility without attracting too much attention."_

"Can it still be accessed?"

_"Providing the base generators haven't been sabotaged," _the marine shrugged, deactivating her omni-tool and hefting her rifle. _"We should be able to come and go as we please."_

"Fair enough." Shepard rose up from the sand, quipping to Altern,"You heard the lady, Sergeant."

"Move out!" Altern gruffly ordered to the gathered storm-troopers before the entire group set off once again into the dirt-induced twilight.

It took another quarter of an hour or more of struggling through the shifting sands of the desert, but eventually, as he led the others up another dune, Shepard heard a clanging beneath his boots. Stopping where he was, he knelt down and shifted handfuls of sand aside. This proved no easy task as sand continued to cascade back down onto the uncovered areas, but, after a few minutes, he had managed to clear away enough to reveal the door's security panel.

The visored visage of Tali emerged at the commander's side, fumbling with her omni-tool and muttering under her breath in quarian some obscure curse or other. With the door being taken care of, Shepard returned his attention back to the others as they gathered at the foot of the hatchway.

"What's our plan?" Verrik agitatedly queried, a few of his squad nodding in agreement.

Frowning, Shepard replied, "Our first priority would be needing to obtain a schematic of the base – which means we'll need to locate the commander's officer."

Garrus cut in over the comms. _"And then stopping the Orks from hauling out any of those Javelins."_

Trooper Dieter coughed from behind his respirator uneasily as he interjected, "And what if the Orks already have those weapons, Commander? Is there a fail-safe that we can use to prevent the weapons from being detonated?"

The commander nodded, as, in the background, Tali let out a whoop of triumph as the door squealed open on its hinges. "From the silo's fire control station, yes, Sergeant." Shepard answered. "But we'll have to obtain the command codes to shut down the missiles."

Verrik face-palmed. "And that means we'll have to search the commander's office for those as well."

As the three units finalised their preparations, Altern turned back to the two storm-trooper squads. "Alright, we know what our plan is, then? Verrik, I want you to provide security for the reconnoitre for the CO's office. My unit will stay with Shepard's squad and provide additional security on the assault on the silo. Remember, watch your corners, do not commit any actions that would arpuse the Orks of your presence and, above all else, watch your bio-spoor IFF's; anything that is not green-skinned and hunched over, you do **_not _**shoot! Understood?"

A chorus of _"aye"_ replied to him as Altern marched back to Shepard and nodded slightly. "We're ready, Commander."

"Wrex." Shepard hissed, gesturing for the Krogan to lead them in. The burly alien nodded, pumping the action of his shotgun and proceeding through the hatch.

Filing in and switching the safeties off of their weapons, the rest proceeded inside, unsure of what they will find below.

* * *

**_Imperial Guard LZ_**

**_Outskirts of the colony_**

Perched halfway out of the turret hatch of one of the few command Chimeras he had on hand within his regiment, Gerrad scanned the horizon and the human colony that lay below with a pair of magnoculars as the Guardsmen and machinery of the expeditionary forces rumbled past him. The landing zone for the operation had been placed on a rise overlooking the colony from its southern side – no doubt, the Guard may already have been spotted the moment their transports broke through AR-275's atmosphere. If the Orks were present within the colony in significant numbers, they would have to move quickly before they were caught out in the open.

To his chagrin, however, he had learned minutes earlier that Jungter had "requisitioned" and diverted four Valkyries worth of his own infantry, including a heavy weapons company from the 497th, directly to what constituted the colony's spaceport. While this audacious, though somewhat vaguely planned, move would allow an Imperial presence in the immediate area the Orks were targeting, thus allowing the remainder of the force to clear out the colony at will, Gerrad had coldly reminded the subordinate commander of his place in the overall chain of command and that all troop movements were to be passed to him first.

Discipline and order were the codes the Imperial Guard were meant to operate by – the Gorgian 497th, in Gerrad's mind, were exemplars of this. Veterans of several campaigns in the Segmentum Tempestus and a rotation to Armageddon during the third Ork invasion had granted the 497th a reputation of fanatical, by the letter loyalty to the Imperium. As for the 85th – oh, they were another matter in entirety. Gerrad had fought beside them once during a particular operation in the Segmentum Pacificus and, in that time, he had come to form his own opinion on the regiment; while their courage was beyond doubt, their loyalty to the Imperial cause was another matter entirety, if the rumours from the Departo Munitorum were anything to go on.

_Speaking of which…._ He arched an eyebrow and lowered his magnoculars as Jungter and his command staff - including a power-fist wielding Commissar Kliest, a priest of the Ecclesiarchy and four Guardsmen of the 85th, including the standard-bearer for the Regiment (judging by the metal shaft covered by black cloth that he bore) – emerged from the rear hatch of Jungter's command Chimera and approached the Gorgian vehicle.

"I assume your men have been briefed?" Gerrad snorted down to his fellow commander as Jungter halted.

Jungter nodded, the venom in Gerrad's words either seeming to go over his head or ignored. "They know of their assignment, General. We'll be on the move within the next few minutes."

"Good." Gerrad replied, seeming to brush the junior commander with the same amount of indifference he would for a fly as he went back to scanning the horizon through his magnoculars.

Just as Jungter was about to rejoin his staff, he heard the squeaking of pistons and the soft thudding of mechanical feet. He barely had to turn around to see the riveted form of an armoured Sentinel slow to a stop beside the two commanders and the top hatch popping open as the pilot stood up from the cabin.

"Are you Talon One?" Jungter queried the Sentinel commander, noting the grey tone camouflage scheme of the walker.

The pilot nodded, removing his visor from his eyes and resting it against his helmet. "Yes, sir! Lieutenant Ferron, Second Reconnoitre Squadron. I'm in command of the mechanised element that'll be advancing on the main Ork encampment."

Turning back to the conversation behind him, Gerrad tried to make himself heard over the rumbling of a pair of passing Hellhound flamethrower tanks. "You have been briefed on your orders then, Lieutenant?"

Ferron nodded wearily. "Yes, General. While the main advance moves directly into the colony itself, my company and the mechanised elements will be attacking the Ork encampment to the South. We are to scour the Ork presence from the area and burn everything to the ground and out of the ground to prevent re-infestation."

The crackle of las-fire in the distance began to echo from the colony below. "Well, you better get a move on!" Gerrad urged. "Our advance forces have made contact and they will likely not last long if we dither here!"

Ferron clambered back into his Sentinel, yelling out a half-hearted "Good luck, sirs!" to the two commanders as he sealed the hatch and the diminutive Sentinel clanked away, tearing across the desert sand and into the distance.

Gerrad noted the still lingering Jungter and he spat, "Well, what are you waiting for, Lieutenant General? Go! War calls!"

Jungter nodded, but just when he was about to leave, Gerrad stopped him from leaving again. "And Jungter? Don't think I have forgotten your earlier "initiative". I want nothing in there, human or xenos, alive. Understand? Burn **_everything _**to the ground!"

Starting to become sick of the over-zealous nature of his superior, Jungter gritted his teeth as he grimly strode away. "Yes, sir. It will be done." he muttered.

* * *

_**Alliance Base - Somewhere on Level One ...**_

Deep within the bowels of the base, Shepard's ad-hoc force continued on in silence, not a single word passing between them in the cloying air as they checked each corridor that they came across. Initially, their journey towards the base's silos had some good fortune, thanks to a series of markers that had been suspended from the roof that provided a general direction as to where they are, but deeper and deeper into the base, they found that they had to rely on themselves for direction within the twisting and turning labyrinth.

TaliZorah and Ashley were not among their number, however; the Commander split them off with Verrik's unit to locate and secure the missile command codes from the base C.O.'s office and the extended time of lack of communication between the two units began to wear on him.

After what seemed like an eternity of running about in a metaphorical cage, Shepard's helmet earphone squawked to life. He could just hear Tali add over the crackling transmission waves, _"Tali'Zorah to Shepard, come in."_

Passing a signal up for the group to halt, Shepard cupped the right side of his helmet, replying, "Go ahead, Tali."

_"We've finally made it to the commander's office on Level One. The Imperials are securing a perimeter and I'm staring at the commander's terminal in front of me now. Shouldn't be too much of a fuss to access the base's databank for the failsafe codes we need."_ There was a brief pause on the line before Tali added, _"Hold on, updating base layout schematics to your omni-tool now."_

Ashley's voice cut into the transmission as he reported, _"The bad news is that we haven't found any of the base's garrison alive so far and I'm not picking up and Alliance IFF signatures on my scanner. I think the Orks wiped the entire garrison out."_

"We haven't seen anyone human alive either, Williams." Wrex rumbled. "This place looks deader than a pyjack nest after it has been torn apart by ravenous varren."

That bit of news seemed to hang within the humid air for a few seconds before Shepard replied. "Understood; rendezvous with us at ..." The commander glanced down at his omni-tool to consult the forwarded map as he replied, "Junction 27A, Level 2. The silo shouldn't be too far from there."

Tali's voice cut back in as she signed off. _"Understood, Commander. Be careful."_

Just as the group was about to move on, Altern, who had since moved up to the front of the group, hissed and gestured urgently to the group. "Get back!"

Acting immediately, he entire group hugged close to the nearest wall as Altern peeked around the corner. He could see several shadows being projected onto the wall, hear the the clanking of boots against the base's floor and the snarling and boisterous tone of Orks; they seemed to be passing by in a hallway parallel to them, likely tracking down for any remaining Alliance personnel that may have been left alive..

"Ork patrol." he hissed back to Shepard and the others. "We're not alone down here."

* * *

**_Alliance Base - Level 2_**

**_Junction 2-27A_**

**_25 minutes later ..._**

Nearly a half-hour of sneaking through the base eventually saw Shepard and the others at Junction 27A – a crossroads somewhere within the base's center that split off into the domestic billets and barracks, the base's armoury and, Shepard hoped, eventually, the base's missile silos.

It had been a relatively quiet journey throughout the dark, Altern's team not uttering a single word as they kept their eyes peeled for Orks, which, thankfully, did not cross their path. But one question that had been haunting him since he set foot on site had been beginning to gnaw at him – where **_did_** the Orks go?

His opportunity to think on it further was interrupted when a hissed whisper of, "Hold your fire!" wafted from one of the adjoining hallways and Verik, Tali and the others emerged from the gloom into the helmet-lamp-lit section of the hall.

"Casualties, Gunnery Chief? Sergeant?" Altern asked the newest arrivals.

Ashley shook her head in reply. "None; we did have a few close calls, though; had to eliminate an Ork sentry after he got a bit too close our position."

"Same." Verrik quipped, keeping his eyes towards the left and right of the rendezvous point, watchful for enemy activity.

"Did you retrieve the fail-safe codes?" Shepard asked.

"Ready for uploading, Commander." Tali quipped.

Shepard nodded, satisfied by their progress so far, before tapping Altern and waved the force forward.

Booted feet clanked against the grated steel floor as the storm-troopers, with Shepard and his squad keeping pace, slowly made their way through the sharply contoured corridors. Torchlight emitting from helmet mounts glowed in the dark, heads slowly tracking left and right as they scanned for any sign of trouble. From his position towards the center of the group, the glances he stole of those around him and, in a few cases, the sparse patterns of breathing that he could hear in the dimness, the sergeant observed that the others were tense, as if something might jump them at any moment. Swallowing his own anxiety down, he tightened the grip on his weapons and slowly continued to keep pace.

The minutes continued to creep by as the three groups continued to wander towards their destination. On occasion, they could hear a rattle in the distance or a muffled yell. Each time, they halted in their tracks, training their weapons towards whatever passage towards or away from them they could see.

And each time, there was nothing.

After what seemed to be an agonising eternity of wandering through the eerily silent hallways, Verrik's auspex emitted several beeps. Everyone stopped in their tracks, right in front of a reinforced blast door five times their height, the flickering hologram of the damaged locking mechanism glimmering feebly in the twilight.

The storm-trooper and Shepard stacked alongside either edge of the frame, Shepard's hand poised above the door's control switch as Altern's fellow Imperials and Shepard's unit raised their weapons to cover the door.

Gripping his assault rifle by one hand, Shepard hissed, "One … Two…"

The Commander's fist slammed on the switch. "Three!"

Altern and Shepard rounded the door frame, their weapons clicking up as the pair charged through the slowly opening steel maw … before coming to a faltering halt several paces away.

"Holy … Throne!" Altern spat in shock as he lowered his hell-pistol. As the group strode inside, they seemed momentarily dumbstruck by the scene in front of them as they surveyed the evident damage.

This section of the interior of the silo was a rounded rectangular edifice approximately 65 meters wide, one and a half times in length (able to be accessed by two other entrances) and the 'roof' set far above them; the space within was populated by the massive tree-trunks of crimson, white-stenciled missile launch tubes. The bodies of Alliance soldiers lay slumped at various places within the area, their weapons clutched in their final spasms of _rigor mortis _or lying dismembered and scattered across the floor – the aftermath of one Ork or another's brutality in battle. Dried and damp sprays of blood caked parts of the walls and floor, the majority tinged bright arterial red. The minority, however, were of a dark green-black hue where a few Ork bodies lay face down – the 527th didn't go down without a fight.

Before any of the group could say a word, Shepard rushed towards one of the missile's launching tubes and wrenched open the half-opened side hatch. The dimness within revealed an empty launch tube; the restraining clamps had been sheared off. Altern could overhear the Commander beginning to mutter in panic as Ashley checked the neighboring tube; that was empty too. A final half-opened tube was found by Tali in the same state.

Three Javelins were missing. A terrifying fact for the humans fighting on the surface if they were detonated.

Pacing over to the Commander, who was tapping his omni-tool rapidly in a futile attempt to get a transmission to the surface, Garrus pointed towards a stairwell that led to the room's second level. "That looks like the silo's control center. 20 credits says we are able to use those deactivation codes there."

Shepard nodded, gesturing up the gantry. "Do it."

The turian nodded and, tapping Tali on the shoulder and beckoning for her to follow him, proceeded up the stairs and entered Fire Control.

"Sergeant Verrik!" Shepard called over to the storm trooper. "Gather your men and set up firing lines towards those doors! No one gets in and out!"

The sergeant scowled at Shepard before, with a slight nod, he turned to his men and barked out orders.

"You heard the commander," Altern called back to his squad. "Secure those entrances! Now!"

However, as everyone jumped to their tasks, a series of beeps sounded within the chamber, echoing off the steel walls. Everyone froze in place, unsure as to where the beeping was coming from or whether it indicated bad news ….

Finally, with a muttered curse, Verrik fumbled for the auspex that hung from his equipment belt and, pressing a command, stopped the noise. A glance at the read-out, however, snapped him into action. "Contact!"

Altern's eyes widened. "Defensive positions!" He then snapped at Verrik, "How many?"

"Fift- wait, sixty plus bio-spoors! Coming from the fore and both flanks!"

"How the frack did they avoid our auspex?" Gallentus snarled as she slammed a fresh power cell into the loading mechanism of her plasma gun and withdrew to the others.

"Must have hid in the vents or kept their mobs back in reserve and out of sight; the rockcrete would have done the rest! Damn those feckless xenos!" Isolde cursed as the Mordian veteran crouched by one of the launch tubes. Others seemed to following her example and soon, the labyrinth of missile tubes was the refuge of the entire group (bar Garrus and Tali, still up on the high ground in Fire Control) as they huddled in a rough defensive circumference facing all three doors. They could begin making out the sounds of hobnailed boots clanging against the steel-grated floor and the barbaric roars of the approaching xenos as they steadied their firing lines.

"Give me a range count!" Altern bellowed over to Verrik as the latter conferred with his scanner once again.

"50 meters to contact! 40 …. 35 … 30 …. 25 ..."

The first of the Orks burst through the open entrances and Shepard angrily gritted his teeth at the sight – a hunched, burly green-skinned alien with elongated canine teeth. Its small beady eyes smouldered red in rage, wielding a crudely made axe in one hand and bearing what looked like, to Christopher's revulsion, captured Alliance armour and a sidearm.

As more of the xenos came barrelling into the missile bay, Altern took aim with his hell-pistol and, as if to answer the Orks' guttural roars, bellowed out his next, and, for all he knew, his final order:

**_"FIRE!"_**

* * *

**A/N: **Ok, folks, I know it has been a long time since I have updated this, but between real-life, a major university keystone project over the last year, flooding, my laptop crashing and my replacement laptop being stolen at least once, trying to get this out any sooner has been a bit ... interesting.

Personally, I'm not really satisfied with how this chapter turned out as, originally, I maintained a relatively equal focus on the surface engagement now taking place and the infiltration mission taking place at the Alliance base. Hopefully the following chapter can both fill in the gaps left over from this one as well as bring the entire skirmish to a close.

In the meantime, feel free to leave some constructive feedback about where you think this is heading. I am more then willing to listen to practical advice about writing, in-universe knowledge, etc - probably the only thing I will NOT do is move haven and earth just so this story turns out according to the diktats of someone - it's up to them, in that case to pick up a pen/keyboard and start writing themselves.

Anyways, this is 2617, signing off!


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